


I Will Cut You

by PaperAnn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Castiel, Barber Dean, Bottom Dean, Community: deancasbigbang, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2015, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Matchmaker Charlie, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Romantic Comedy, Smut, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5197793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperAnn/pseuds/PaperAnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had always been skilled with a blade. </p><p>The weight felt good in his hand, and maneuvering it with the roll of his wrist came as a second nature. Somehow, he was using his fine-tuned skill in front of an audience these days. It wasn’t used, any longer, to slit the throats of monsters and save people from the things that go bump in the night. Dean had traded in his blades for shears. He never thought, after all these years, he'd be forced to go into hiding under the guise of a goddamn barber. Who knew he'd get roped into his very own personal nightmare of witness protection, drowning in the smells of perms, bleach and hairspray.</p><p>If that wasn’t one hell of a punch line? He didn’t know what the fuck was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Do or Dye

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks go out to my amazing beta [Nytekit](http://nytekit.tumblr.com/), who made my very first Big Bang a lot less intimidating and completely painless with her helpful suggestions and editing skills <3
> 
> I'm also very lucky to have been chosen by the amazingly talented [IntrospectiveWingtips](http://introspectivewingtips.tumblr.com/), who the created the gorgeous art for this ridiculous fic!
> 
> So much love for these two ladies!
> 
> Also - just a heads up that in this fic I’ve taken excessive liberties when it comes to the canon plotlines and character backgrounds. Keep in mind, this is primarily a comedy. 
> 
> If anything, I’d label this work as an ‘Alternate Universe: Extreme Canon Divergent.’ While Dean and Sam stopped the Apocalypse as hunters, and Cas as an angel, the majority of the supporting characters had nothing to do with ‘saving the world.’ Instead, I’ve used their names and characterizations in a whole new setting with a blank slate.
> 
> Those who may have died in early seasons are alive. Characters I’ve enjoyed from season nine have joined the lineup. Certain demons are now just human pains in the ass.
> 
> Take that information into account when you begin reading. Hope you enjoy!

 

  
Dean had always been skilled with a blade.  The weight felt good in his hand, and maneuvering it with the roll of his wrist came as a second nature.  Somehow, he was using his fine-tuned skill in front of an audience these days.  It wasn’t used, any longer, to slit the throats of monsters and save people from the things that go bump in the night… he (more or less) used it to save people from themselves.  

There had to be a punchline in here somewhere... oh yeah.    
  
It was the fact that his long-time friend had convinced him to hone his special talent into a new medium.  A medium that was a lot less bloody (unless Dean was having a bad day and accidentally nicked himself).  

Dean groaned as Jo called over to tell him that his ‘client’ had finally arrived - just as punctual as always.

He plastered on a fake smile and waved them over to his chair - a welcoming vibe exuding from his body language.

"You know the drill," the man stated curtly, as he was a regular who felt confident in Dean's talents.

"Just a trim?"

"Yeah, gotta big meeting tomorrow, want to look my best."

"All right, tiger.  Let's get you in tip top shape," he chuckled and reached for his clippers.

Yep.  Dean had traded in his blades for _shears_.  He never thought, after all these years, he'd go into hiding under the guise of a goddamn _barber_.  Who knew he'd get roped into his very own personal hell of witness protection, drowning in the smells of perms, bleach and hairspray.  
  
If that wasn’t one hell of a punch line?  He didn’t know what the fuck was.

\---------

_He was almost there… he could see the old wooden double-doors of the Roadhouse but his feet just weren’t getting the memo._

_Dean had lost way too much blood, his vision was starting to get fuzzy around the edges by the end of his drive.  Just a couple more yards… he could do this… he couldn’t pass out in the front when he was always instructed to go through the back, in case of emergencies like this._

_Even though the majority of the patrons were hunters, that didn’t mean the occasional biker or college kid ‘who loved dive bars’ wouldn’t freak out to high heaven and call the cops if he was bleeding all over the floor._

_That was the last thing they needed._   
  
_The police coming in and asking why there was salt all over the floor.  And when they caught sight of the graffiti?  They’d probably assume they were Satanic … which would lead to a raid and they’d strike gold with all the illegal firearms in the place … and then Ellen would probably blast ‘em full of their weight in rocksalt …. and they’d have to explain the dead bodies ... or bury them… then it’d come back as a vengeful spirit and-_

_Motherfuck.  The brain trauma was worse than he thought!_

_He finally stumbled into the back door and fumbled to get over to the chair.  He knocked over a crate of liquor, which went crashing to the floor and shattered.  The scent of six different kinds of rum was gonna be his last memory - fucking_ great _._

_Dean heard footsteps running back into the room, and soon, he was faced with the livid face of Jo.  Her anger quickly faded into worry as she reached out and caught Dean right before he face-planted on the ground._

_“Jesus!  What the hell happened to you?!”  She picked him up off the floor (chick was strong as hell) and dragged him the rest of the way to the couch.  “Was this from the nest?”_

_“Yeah… turns out we miscalculated the number of vamps…” he was wobbly as Jo began peeling his layers off, and caught sight of the deep lacerations._

_She heaved a sigh and ordered, “Stay there.  I’ve gotta tell mom you’re here and then we can bandage you up-” Jo disappeared as quickly as she had arrived._

_Sure, Dean was sloppy on this mission, outnumbered or not.  But everything had gotten harder since Sam left the game and he couldn‘t-_

_No, he wasn’t going to let himself go there._

_He refused to call for backup, after what happened with the last mission - his ego was cockblocking the assistance he really needed.  He was tired, he still had the fuckin’ FBI - who had caught his trail all over again - chasing him and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could shake them.  Hopefully they hadn’t followed him here._

_Before he left, Dean triple checked there was no tracker on his car.  He hauled ass out of Chicago as quick as he could and headed straight here.  The feds hadn’t plastered his picture all over the news -_ yet _, because they were still treating it like an ‘internal matter.’  They couldn’t pin anything on him, besides impersonating an officer (at this point) and that wasn’t something that should have made national news._

_Still, it was only a matter of time._

_Who knew what they’d do, if they got desperate._

_So Dean had funneled all his frustration into a vamp hunt that went terribly wrong._

_Ellen came stomping into the back room with frustration written all over her face.  “The hell were you thinking, boy?!  Why didn’t you tell us you were outnumbered?!”_

_“Reasons,” he slurred, as his self-appointed aunt picked up where her daughter had left off._

_She already had the antiseptic and supplies he needed to be sewn back together._

_Plus, Ellen was extremely efficient.  She had been working with hunters for years and years, and they trusted her.  That’s why so many came stumbling in, as he just had, and trusted her to save their lives._

_Or, in Ash’s case, mend a little boo-boo he received from slicing vegetables for the soups._

_Yeah, Dean had him beat times two-million.  Not like it was a competition or anything - but if it was, the point is Dean was most definitely the winner._

_It wasn’t even an hour later that Dean was laying on his back, completely fixed up but still dizzy as shit.  She ordered him to get some rest and she’d be back to check on him in a little bit.  Jo got him a glass of water, telling him he’d nearly bled out and couldn’t hold his whiskey and to ‘drink the goddamn H2O,’ but Dean wasn’t mad.  He was about to pass out, regardless._

\---------

_When he finally came to, it was to the hushed whispering of the two women, locked in a very intense discussion.  He didn’t open his eyes quite yet, because he heard his name._

_He needed to figure out what the hell they were saying about him._

_“He can’t do this anymore, I heard through the hunter network he’s gotta helluva bounty on his head from the feds bringing in ‘other resources,’ and if he gets hurt again and can’t come to us?  He’s gonna get caught.”_

_“You really think he’s just gonna give it up?  C’mon, mom, you know that’s bullshit.  He’s a self-sacrificing idiot who won’t be able to get out of the game.  You and I both know that…”_

_“What if he joined you?”  Her voice was tentative.  “Just took a timeout, until this all clears up.  Hell, maybe he’ll enjoy not getting sliced into every week and, I don’t know, settle down?”_

_“Huh…” Jo’s voice paused for a little while before she decided, “That’s kind of a good idea…”_

_“As much as I love you working here on weekends, I think you’re onto something with your side project.  Never thought any daughter of mine would-”_

_“You know I did it for a cover.  Plus, it’s an easy way to launder money - since we got that huge ‘donation.’  No one would suspect…”_

_“Don’t act like you’re not enjoying it,” her tone was teasing, but fond._

_“Shut up.  It’s just like working with knives, no big deal.”  She huffed a sigh, “Since you won’t let me hunt.”_

_“You know what happened to your father.  I couldn’t let that-”_

_“I get it, mom.”_

_“You think you could convince Dean?”_

_“Fuck yeah, I could.”_

_“Convince me of what?”  Dean suddenly grumbled from the couch, unable to keep his comments to himself anymore._

_A huge smile broke across both women’s faces as they looked at each other with that unspoken language they’d perfected._

_“Deal’s already done.  You got no choice, Winchester.  We’re putting you in witness protection.”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“You’ll thank us later.”_

\------------

So, yeah.  Apparently, his best friend owned a salon.  Who knew?  He sure as hell didn’t.  Dean went out of his way not to tell people it was a salon, he always referred to it as ‘the shop,’ but that was a euphemism, at best.  Nope.  It wasn’t the classic barber shop he would have hoped for - no red, white and blue cylinder out front, calling in masses of manly men who wanted a quick in-and-out haircut.  He wasn’t using the good ol’ fashioned straight razor like a badass to slice off stubble.

Apparently, that was ‘against state board regulation.’  Screw that.

This was a fucking full-service salon.

And he was the only dude who worked here.

Maybe that’s why he got more clients?  Men tended to trust men when it came to haircuts (that is, unless they were in it to get their jollies and hoped a woman would accidentally brush her tits against them).  But some of the women he got in his chair, were hoping for the flamboyant jazzed up stereotype of a male hairdresser who would chat about the latest trends and gossip about cute boys with him.

He was sorry to disappoint - but that’s where he drew the line.  He’d do a lot to earn the cash and keep the customers happy.

Being ‘fabulous’ was _not_ one of those things.

There were a lot of pros and cons to this new career change, and the top of that list were the chicks.

He tried to go out of his way to avoid banging his co-workers, but the women here were fucking hot.  They wore heels to work everyday, curled their hair in that perfect Victoria’s Secret Model way and painted their faces to look their best.  These chicks had gone to cosmetology school to make other people look hot, so obviously they were all 10s, themselves.  So, yeah, maybe there was a lot of sexual tension in the shop (he could see how Lisa was looking at him over the shampoo bowl) but Jo laid down the law.  No.  Boning.  The.  Stylists.

To which he quipped, “What about the nail techs?”

And she slapped him upside the head, shouting in a very poor Chinese accent, “No happy ending for you!”

That didn’t mean Dean didn’t get his fair share of phone numbers from the clients in his chair.  But that was a whole other can of worms.  He wasn’t simply passing through town; this was for an undetermined amount of time.  Straight up TBA-status.  What if some chick fell madly in love with his skills in bed, and not just his haircutting technique?  She knew where he worked.  She’d know how to find him, and that wasn’t something Dean was keen on.  At all.  So, once again, he was pretty much celibate and wondered why he didn’t join a goddamn church.  But anyway - back to the salon.

Alright, so he’d given in and taken Jo up on some education classes and knew how to do chick haircuts, all right?

But he drew the line at color.

No way in hell, was he going to coo about ‘that gorgeous honey ombre’ or ‘that really natural looking highlight, like I don’t have color in my hair, but I do.’  That’s where shit got sticky.

Maybe he was openly bisexual, but that had to do with liking hot dudes.  Not chatting about girly shit.

He firmly planted his feet on the ‘barber’ line, when asked, even though his bag of tricks extended a little farther than that.

Dean chatted it up, cracking jokes with his regular (Richard, he was soon reminded - he was better with faces than names, so sue him) and after a final rinse at the bowl the man was out the door, looking pretty damn sharp.  Dean pocketed the twenty, letting his fingertips skim over the bill briefly, before cleaning his tools.

This was one of the best things about dude’s haircuts.  It was easy, cut and dry (literally) unless someone came in wanting to look like Macklemore, and you had to talk them down from the ledge.

Didn’t they know that was over?  Don’t get Dean _started_ on the man-bun, he was tempted to ‘slip’ and knock that fuckin’ top-knot off with one well-placed graze of his clippers.

Then, he had to remember to reign in his aggression, because it was ‘all about the client’ when it came down to it (not the monsters), or so Jo kept reminding him.  This was night and day from the life he used to live.  Dean had a hard time fitting into the mold, that was for sure, but everyday he put his best foot forward.  No matter if he felt a big part of who he had been was missing…

She really did him a huge favor (even if he‘d been yanked into this idea kicking and screaming)… so he was going to play by her rules as long as he had to.

Speaking of rules…

He looped around to the front desk, where the blonde was looking through her books and rested his chin in the crook of her shoulder.  “Do I have to pay rent this month?”

She narrowed her eyes and glared something terrible, “Yes.  And next month my answer will be the same, asshat.  You’ve got a good clientele, so suck it.”  She swatted him out of her personal bubble, “I can’t show favoritism.  These bitches will shank you.”

“Don’t I know it,” he laughed and whispered dramatically, “I think Charlie is PMSing.  I caught her in the back room crying because of a YouTube montage of baby animals.  She’d be the first one to end me.”

“Hah!  You’d do the same thing if you had a couple of bourbons in you, don’t lie.”

“That was one time!”

“Never letting you live it down.”  The blonde winked and flipped through her calendar.  “Hey, can you pick up Saturday?  We’ve got a bridal party coming in, so everyone will be busy with updos.  I’m gonna need someone here to take walk-ins.”

“Have I ever mentioned how bad this schedule sucks?  I can never go out on Fridays anymore.”

“Hey, how do you think I feel?  I have to work at the bar with mom all weekend!  At least you can have Sunday Funday, right?”

“Unfortunately, Sundays are now my hangover day.  I refuse to leave the apartment.”

“Story of my life,” she sighed and dramatically shut her book.  “You gonna be here for a while?  I’m gonna go grab some grub.”

“Yeah, I got three more haircuts then I’m home free,” he began obnoxiously poking her in the side, “Will you get me a burger, boss?”

She didn’t settle for swatting him this time, instead, she punched him in the arm.   _Hard_.

“Godammit, Joanna!”

“Mind your mouth, there are children here!”

He feigned a pout, then asked slowly, “So… how about that burger?”

“Only if you pay your rent.  On time.”  Grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around, she moved passed him.  “No hitting on Lisa.  Don’t act like I didn’t see the way you were hovering and gawking at her ass yesterday.”

“Excuse me, how am I supposed to help myself when she wears that skirt?!”

“Caveman,” she flipped him her middle finger and headed to the front door.

“Extra pickles!”

\-----------

Dean had to admit to working with some strange hunters in the past.  Some had been comrades, some he’d forced himself to endure, and others, like Gordon Walker, were worse than the monsters.

In all actuality, some of these girls could have been better hunters than many of those he’d come across.  Hell, some of them had questionable morals, and he was about to do some holy water dumping and slicing silver tests on ‘em.

While he knew Jo’s life story, inside and out, seeing her here was like seeing a completely different person.  She shed her rough exterior in front of clients, but then in the backroom she did a total 360 around to herself and didn’t hesitate smacking Dean upside the head, or punching him in the gut, if need be.  And, he knew for a fact, under the desk with all the supplies, paper clips, and gift cards, there was a gun duct-taped to the top of the cabinet (once you got past the false-shelf), ready to yank out at a moment’s notice.  He felt safe with Jo at the helm, as much he felt unsafe in terms of his own well-being and dignity.

The first person he really clicked with was Charlie.  She was a color extraordinaire and loved doing it.  Sometimes, a little _too_ much.  He’d gotten slopped with a gob of bleach when he was walking by her one day.  And it made his favorite Henley not simply look stonewashed - but the damn bleach ate away at it and he was left with a gaping hole right by his nipple.  Completely.  And Utterly.  Destroyed.  What was worse?  Charlie offered him a trip to the mall to get him another one, and it ended with fashion shows and spending way more money than he’d made in the last _two months_.  Not to mention, later that week he’d been assaulted with another projectile - this time, splattering on his face and leave a giant purple stain on his cheek.  Oh, yeah, it also colored the beard he was proudly growing, which needed to be shaved off, immediately.

Charlie was lucky he liked her.

Becky was their receptionist, and it was only because of her perky voice.  Well, not just that, he hated to admit she was good at her job, but for some reason she also hated Dean.  She would go out of her way to tell him, "Aren’t you going to sweep up your station?" not even a second after a haircut client was checked out, and she berated him for being even a minute late.  The worst part?  Becky wasn’t even his least favorite.

He, personally, was terrified of Ruby and Abbadon (who went by Abby).  They both took a sick amount of pleasure in the spa area of the salon, through the medium of waxing.  And pain.  There had been many a time he’d heard a shrill scream echo through the salon during a particularly brutal Brazilian wax.  On the other side of the coin, Abby made up for it with damn good makeup applications and Ruby - through massages.  Although, Dean himself would never be caught dead letting that crazy bitch get him isolated in a room, with him practically naked.

Out of the three nail techs, the only one who was not only sweet, but professional was Madison.  She attended some hippie school (was it Aveda?) that only allowed performing ‘natural manicures and pedicures.’  Needless to say, her training and her own way of advertising brought in all the hipsters, environmentally-conscious and PETA enthusiasts.  She was great at her job, and good with words.

Unlike Hannah and Bela.

On an average day, you’d hear Hannah’s dead-panned, completely oblivious voice state, “You’re in desperate need of an anti-fungal cream to clear this up,” or, “Would you like me to paint your skin, since you’re missing your toe nail?  That’s very bizarre.  Did you willingly remove it, or was it an accident?”  She would also loudly announce, when the spa was crowded, how much dead skin she’d filed off an old woman’s foot, and proudly show her the nasty skin shavings and hard work she was putting in.  Yep.  Hannah didn’t care about anyone’s self-preservation and didn’t own a filter.

Speaking of filter, Bela was even worse than her.

The British woman refused to do anything other than acrylic nails.  And, even in the realm of acrylics, she wouldn’t listen to what the client wanted, but what Bela wanted.  For instance, if the client wanted a French Tip, she’d scoff with a, “Honey, you actually need longer fingers for that, not those stubs.”  Or, if they picked out a certain color Bela didn’t agree with, she’d laugh and grab her own choice, sweet-talking the client that "she knows best," and "we don’t want to make you look like white-trash, do we, sweetheart?"

How the fuck those two kept a clientele, or the salon avoided a lawsuit, was beyond him.   He steered clear of both of ‘em.

Tessa was kind of like a ghost.  Not in a weird, we’ve-gotta-salt-and-burn-her, kind of way.  She was an apprentice, which meant instead of going to a full-on institute, she was earning her hours for her license here.  She shadowed each of the women on a different day, picking up tricks of the trade and like Dean said, he never really noticed her - she was like a shadow.

Who were _not_ shadows were Meg and Lisa.

Both in very, very different ways.

Lisa was sweet, but she would always kinda come on to him - but not?  It was a weird dance they did, because once in a while Dean would babysit her son, Ben (who was _awesome_ , by the way) while she was on a date.  But no matter how many dates she went on - after they were finished, she looked at him like she wanted to eat him.  In a sexy way.  She was gorgeous, of course, but something about her just didn’t click.  It’s not like Dean was looking for _the one_ , it’s just if he was?  Lisa wouldn’t be it.  He had better things to do than this strange game of cat and mouse.  Although, he admitted it was fun.  Most days, it was _very_ fun.

Meg was _not_ fun.

She was _funny_ , if that counted - but she was too assertive, too aggressive and while he thought she was hilarious at times, it was mostly when it was inappropriate.  She was one of those women who talked to clients about vibrators, the biggest mutual-slut they knew, and BDSM.  Which was cool, or whatever, but if Dean had to tone it down when he dropped an ‘f-bomb‘ from time to time, why the hell didn’t she get reprimanded?  There was this invisible force around her that said, loud and proud, ‘Meg does what Meg wants.’  No one questioned it.  Their relationship was all right, he guessed.  But he was wary of her.  And a little scared, if he were honest.

But them’s the brakes, right?  
  
\-------------

There was a very simple fact of life.  In his new life, that was:

Dean hated Wednesdays.

In fact, he went out of his way to avoid working on that particular day of the week.

Did also mention he dreaded them?

Nope.  He downright _loathed_ them.

He was almost positive it was Charlie’s idea in the beginning, when talks of ‘ _it_ ’ started out.  Then, little by little, every single goddamn heathen in the place ran with the idea.  Full fuckin’ speed ahead.  Since it was a bit slower on Wednesdays, not only did they tend to run discounted services, they also had _themed uniform days_ , rather than the typical ‘salon chic’ daily wear.  Which was just as unpleasant as it sounded…

In Dean’s opinion, dressing up was for little kids on Halloween or fucking frat parties while they were drowning themselves in cheap booze or doing kegstands.  But, apparently, these chicks were goddamn children who liked to play dress up.  Some even took it in borderline inappropriate directions depending on theme, but it did draw in the clients.  Hell, it was something they were now known for.

He was a grown-ass man, and even though it was somewhat cute for the girls to have fun on these theme days, he was not having it.  It wasn’t like he could blow it off on hump day either - Jo was a force of nature and wouldn’t have a single problem kicking him to the curb (or making him do something even more embarrassing) if he refused to participate.

So here he was.

Shoved into a Wednesday afternoon shift.

Dressed in a _goddamn toga_.

It took approximately forty-seven minutes for the red-cast on his face to dull, but it came back with a vengeance each and every time a girl winked, or a client gave him a furrowed brow of confusion.

It was completely and totally unfair.

All his coworkers were able to style themselves into some kind of cute or sexy look, with the advantage of a high-waisted belt to extenuate their curves.  Others pinned with golden broaches, a fuck-ton of bangles and Meg even found a friggen crown-like headband in her closet.

But Dean?

Dean got fucked over.

It was a goddamn _sheet_ , tied with a rubber band on the top of his shoulder and he felt naked.  Even though he was wearing clothes under it, Jo had ordered him to take off his flannel so the ladies could ogle at his muscled shoulders.

But he argued, “I am not a piece of meat, thank you very much!”  
  
Obviously, she didn’t give a flying fuck.

Not to mention the fact, that everyone and their cousin managed to come up with an excuse to graze their grubby finger tips over his exposed skin.  It gave him the creeps.  He wanted to drown himself in the salon supply of barbicide, because the usual disinfectants would not even touch the diseases of these demons.  Dean had an exorcism on the tip of his goddamn tongue, hoping to get rid of the entire shop.

“You make a fine Hercules, there, Deano,” Meg cooed at him as she walked by.

“I was actually going for Caesar,” the man snipped back, “And hopefully I’ll be assassinated before the day is done.”

“You’d have to be someone special to assassinate,” she winked.  “You’re more the type to be a John Doe accident in the paper.”

He spun on his heels, headed towards the front desk where Jo handed him a golden wreath.  Like, an actual goddamn dress-up wreath from a Halloween store.

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his reaction.  “It didn’t kill your first born or some shit, Dean.  You’re in a goddamn sheet, you need more or else you look like a slutty ghost who‘s not wearing their ethereal force field right.”

“ _Vengeful_ slutty ghost, thank you very much,” he kept his volume down, but the venom in his voice strong.

Before he could say anything to stop her, she grabbed the back of his neck and hauled Dean down to her level.  She announced, “Kneel, peasant!” and (right around the time she ‘crowned him’) he asked himself where his life had gone so terribly wrong.  He grumbled something under his breath, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on it, and went around the corner to set up his supplies for the day.

The salon was packed, every single stylist was with a client, and his next was due to arrive in ten minutes.  He had to hand it to Jo, she was running a pretty damn tight ship, yet the feel was warm and welcoming and it didn’t hurt that they offered the client's wine and beer.  What was even more badass?  After their shifts were over, she didn’t blink about an employee snagging one from the fridge.  Considering Jo had only owned it for two years, it’d gained rave reviews due to both the atmosphere and the stylist’s work.  And Dean, of course, since he was ruggedly handsome and the women couldn’t turn away.  Or so he told Jo.

He went to work spraying his tools down with alcohol and readying his cart when he felt a slap on his rear.

With a jerk, he turned around to see Meg presenting a shit-eating grin.

“The fuck are you doing?”  He narrowed his eyes, which caused her to shrug nonchalantly.

“What can I say?  Your old bedspread extenuates your ass, can’t keep my hands off it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry it wasn’t exactly in my goddamn budget to spend money on a stupid costume, or have one tailor-made at the fabric store,” he shot her a dirty look before turning back around to what he was doing.

_Another_ slap nailed his other butt cheek, and he didn’t bother to bitch about it.

Although, Meg announced, “There.  Now you’re symmetrical.”

“Wha-?”  He flicked his gaze around, but she was already long gone to wash out her client’s processed color.

Everyone here was friendly enough, but Meg went out of her way to tease and harass him.  If there weren’t Devil’s Traps under the rugs everywhere, he would have sworn she was a demon.  At least then he could send her back to Hell, where she belonged.

When he cleaned his combs and clipper guards, he went on auto-pilot and that’s when his brain began running wild.  It wasn’t a real sense of nostalgia or anything.  There were too many shitty things that’d happened to him in the past - he didn’t want to reflect and think about that crap.  Still... he _did_ kind of miss it.  He missed saving people from the things that went bump in the night.  However, this wasn’t the time to be running cross-country on solo(ish) missions anymore.  He was wanted.  Even though the public wasn’t involved, all law enforcement would recognize his mug and he didn’t have his brother for back-up anymore.

He didn’t fault Sam for wanting a new life after they stopped the apocalypse.  It was too heavy, the burdens they were handed, and it was by sheer luck and happy accidents they managed to shove Lucifer and Michael back into the cage.

While no one knew Lucifer’s vessel, Nick, previously - sacrificing Adam had _hurt_.

Maybe that was the reason Sam had to get away.  They were close to breaking - physically, emotionally, and every other goddamn synonym you could throw in there.

Sam had told him they saved the world, so why couldn’t they live in it?  Create their own lives, follow their own dreams?  The thought was something Sam had gotten his hands on before; it was something Dean never managed to do.  He couldn’t imagine a life without hunting.  His brother had a taste - he had that flicker of a normal life before, something he desperately wanted to return to.  Now that Crowley was back in charge of Hell?  They didn’t have to worry much about the demon aspects of things, only the monster-of-the-week variety.

Dean couldn’t let go of that.  Well.  Until he _had_ to.

Leave it to the goddamn humans being the ones who benched him.

Hopefully, one day they’d forget about it.  They’d forget about him.  Maybe one day, Dean would put some effort into faking his own death, or something.  Who knew.

At least he was surrounded by hunters, even now.  Jo knew the score, she knew how to protect the business, and Ellen kept Dean ‘in the know’ about who was handling what cases, as clarification (and a piece of mind) there were more than enough hunters out there to take care of things.  Dean had done enough - he’d saved the damn world, for God’s sake.  Maybe it was to pacify him, let him know everything went on, people were still being saved, even if he wasn’t road tripping around the country to make the difference?  What ever it was… Ellen and Jo did a damn good job keeping him sane.  It was something he needed.

“Hey!”  Charlie patted him on the back before announcing, “Your client is here.  And let me tell you, he’s gonna need a lot of work…”

Disclaimers, Dean had come to find out, were never good.  Especially when they came from Charlie.  But once he fled the back room and walked into the lobby, a grin spread across his face when he realized it was Ash.

“Hey, buddy!”  He greeted, and returned the high five awaiting him.  “So, you ready to get rid of that mullet or something?  Bout time.”

With a dopey grin, Ash ran his fingers through the long lengths of his tresses, “Hell no.  Can’t mess with perfection, dude.  Just a little off the top.  I’m growing out the bottom.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he rolled his eyes and led him over to the shampoo bowls, “You trying to tell me you’re going for a redneck Rapunzel look, or something?”

“The ladies _love_ to wrap their fingers around it, what can I say.”  The expression on his face was nothing less than lecherous, and if he didn’t know the man personally, he’d be freaked out.

“Whatever, man,” Dean muttered, pumping a palm-full of shampoo into his hand.

“How about you?”  Ash lifted his eyes toward Dean while the man was working up a lather.  “Got any hotties to speak of?”

There was a half-second hesitation in his soapy fingers before he shrugged.  “Nope.  All work and no play.  Sucks but not.”

“All these lovely ladies, and notta one’s catching your attention?”  He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Nah-” then Dean mumbled under his breath, “Jo tells me they’re off limits.  Don’t wanna piss her off.  You, of all people, know what she’s capable of.”

When Dean finally finished the wash and wrapped a black towel on his head to pull some of the moisture out, Ash sat up, but he didn’t stand up.  He kept staring - not just at Dean, but at the women around the shop.  Which was really kind of unnerving, like he was deducting some kind of algorithm or mathematical probability when it came to the stylists surrounding them.

“Yer fulla bullshit, Winchester.  Which one is it?  You actually expect me to believe that _you’re_ celibate?  That’s you’re in a serious relationship with your hand?”

“Yeah, I light candles, lay on a bed of rose petal, it’s fuckin’ romantic.” He removed the wet rag and swatted him in the cheek with it.  “I told you, Jo’s scary!  You keep encouraging me like this it’ll be _her_ to chop off that god-awful rattail of yours.”

“Message read loud and clear, homie,” Ash mumbled under his breath but followed Dean back to his station.  Still, he was up to no good, and continued to point, in a hushed whisper, “Is it that one?  The one with legs for days?”  
  
Which had Dean rolling his eyes, and forcefully shoving him down in his chair.

As soon as he finished draping his friend, he felt the graze of fingertips along his back, and Lisa popping into his peripheral.

“He’s still not changing a thing, is he?”  She snorted while Ash sent her a very obvious wink.  “Maybe one day, we can at least talk you into color?”  She ventured a guess before patting Dean again, “You have the weirdest friends.”

A huge, dumb smile that couldn’t be contained every time Lisa flirted with him made its way to his face.  So what, if he had a little crush?  He knew nothing was going to come from it, and it was fun to have a bit of casual sexual tension.  Made the work day interesting.

“Knew it!”  Ash cleared his throat loudly, forcing Dean’s attention back to him, when he announced, “Excuse me, paying customer!”

“Shut up.  You know your cuts are on the house, douche.”

“I know,” he winked, “And now I’ve figured out the foxy lady you’re hooked on.”

“One more word, and I swear-” Dean jerked his shears forward to emphasize his point, which promptly shut the man up.

At least using weapons could still get the job done, right?  

\----------

When the end of the day came, and he was about to rip his stupid goddamn toga off, Ruby came charging at him with a bottle of nail polish she couldn’t seem to get open.  The brunette was confined to the spa room, and apparently one of their coworkers was having trouble opening a bottle the client _insisted_ on, and he was their brute strength.

This was actually a daily routine.  Different women in the spa area were always hunting for him with traitorously tight-lidded bottles of polish in their hands.  The weird thing was, that he put little effort into twisting the lid before it opened.

“You’re losing your touch, Rubes.  You used to be a fucking animal and-”

His jaw dropped as she _dumped_ the polish all down his front with a smug grin.  She smeared it with the petite application brush and snickered, “I always knew coral was your color, Dean.”

“What the _fucking fuck_!”  His eyes flew between the dripping orange-pink paint and her mischievous face back and forth.  “What the _hell_ are you-?!”

“I couldn’t miss out on all the fun,” she recapped the bottle and put a hand on her hip.  “Since everyone else has already tagged you, figured I need to end the prank with a _bang_.”

“A whu-?”

“Very eloquent, Winchester.  Give me your toga,” she winked and before she even got permission, began unwrapping it herself.

Once the sheet was free of his body and he was left in his tank top and jeans, she whipped it out for him to see.  And when he saw, his groan echoed through the salon.

Those _bitches_!

Two perfect red handprints from a color Meg had been applying were cupping the area where his ass had been.

Another handprint, from the purple accent color Charlie had been working, on was loud and proud where his back was.

And Lisa, who teasing ran her fingertips along him?  That time he’d got the shivers from what he’d assumed was a flirtation?  Those sneaking, dancing digits had spelled out two words in black hair color clinging to her gloves.

‘ _Desperately Available_.’

Now, Ruby had added a lovely splash of tropical paint down the front.

“Goddamnit!  I actually _use_ this as a _bed sheet_!”  He raged, turning violently all around the room to catch the culprits.

“At least you’ll never forget us when you‘re jerking off,” Meg answered back in a sing-song voice.

“I’m quitting.  You assholes are too much to work with.”

“No, you’re not,” Charlie appeared on his right.  “You love us too much.  Besides, what’s better than a wild and fun group of hot women?

“Nothing about this is fun,” he narrowed his eyes, and hoped he looked menacing.  “And you’re not wild, you’re feral!”

It wasn’t enough, because Charlie still leaned forward and placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek.  “I’m out!  See ya tomorrow!”

All his co-workers were packing up as he stared down, defeated, to his poor, poor bed sheet.  Maybe he’d have a farewell service, because it was so far beyond repair, he was about to give it a Hunter’s Funeral.  Nothing would be worse than a vengeful piece of fabric.

He was never.  Ever.  Ever.  Participating in toga day, as long as he lived.

\----------

Dean was running on fumes as he trudged back into the shop after running six too many errands.  Jo, the asshole, had made him run to the salon store and pick up a huge color order because they were running low.  Not to mention, the women threw together their own lists, which included everything from round brushes, toe-separators and fucking tampons.  Yeah, like he really need to buy all this shit today.  The grand total was over six hundred bucks, which Dean balked at for a half a second before pulling out the credit card Jo had handed him.  The woman at the counter who checked him out stared between him and his license intently, like she was just waiting for him to confess it was fake.

Well, obviously it was fake.

But he was pretending to be legit, so it was rude she made assumptions because of his flannel and working boots.  Probably his unimpressed face, too.  Whatever.

He hauled the bags in and slammed them down on the desk so hard, it made Charlie jump.  She narrowed a glare and him and demanded, “The fuck is up with you, dude?”

“Didn’t plan on spending my lunch break catering to you heathens.”

“Aww, is the baby grumpy?  I’ve got some candy tucked away at my station, if that would help?”

“I don’t want anything to do with your skittles.”

She leaned forward, and with a dramatic whisper, inquired, “You don’t want to taste my rainbow?”

“Gross.  I don’t know if that was an innuendo or terrible product placement,” he made a face and rounded on the desk to look at his books.

“Oo, speaking of rainbows, you should let your freak flag fly, there’s a _serious_ hottie in your chair, right now,” she winked at him and pointed to the name on his books.  “He’s a little early.”

“He’s already in my chair?”  Dean’s eyebrows furrowed together, “The hell did you let him back there?”

“I didn’t want to leave him lonely in the lobby waiting for you,” she pouted something which resembled one of Sam’s best puppy faces.  “Plus, Meg made a move to steal him away from you, but I firmly told her she could flirt, but he requested _you_.”

“Huh,” his eyes glanced over the name a few more times.  “I don’t know if I recognize him… ‘sides, Becky must have forgotten to write down a last name.”

“You _literally_ recognize _no_ names.  If I started talking about Jo, you wouldn’t know who she was until she walked in here and punched you in the face,” Charlie threw her hands up in exasperation.

“Wait, who’s Jo?”  Dean could only keep his face innocent for two seconds before he cracked up.  “I know, it’s a personal problem, I get it.  Habit I can’t break.”

“Wouldn’t hurt you to care a little more,” the redhead admonished with a dramatic shake of her finger.  “I don’t understand how you get so many clients, must be your pretty face.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he walked over to the side cabinet and grabbed a cutting cape.  “Stop keeping me away from my client!”

“Try to keep yourself off him,” she blew him a kiss and waved her hand.

“Shut your mouth!”  Dean called over his shoulder as he turned the corner to his station.

He unfolded the cape and gave it a good whip open, before he draped it around the man sitting in his chair.  He was too busy buttoning it in back, and asking, “So, how’s your day going?” absently, until a familiar voice made him freeze in his tracks.

“Hello, Dean.”

His hands locked up from where he was snapping the last button, and his eyes darted up to look at the reflection in the mirror.

Then, the bottom dropped out of his stomach.

“Cas?”  He tripped over his words as he caught those too-blue eyes in the mirror.  Then, his voice dropped an octave, he backed away like he was under attack, when he demanded, “The fuck are you doing here?”

“Don’t make a scene,” he admonished slowly, studying the man’s (now jerky) movements.  “I believe if anyone should be upset, I would be better suited, in this case.”

Dean narrowed his eyes and entered in a staring contest, even though he knew he was never going to win.  So, he swallowed down his pride and flashed a sickeningly sweet, completely fake smile.

“What can I do for you today?  Oh, you say you want a makeover?”

“A what…?”  Castiel’s innocent blue eyes blinked at him as he tilted his head.

“Yeah?  All right, I think I know something that would look great on you, too!”  Dean reached out and grabbed his clippers, not bothering to clip on a guard, and dramatically thumbed the button to bring them to life.

The buzzing noise caught Cas off guard and he jerked away with the concerned demand of, “What are you doing, Dean?”

As an answer, the man clapped his hand on the side of Castiel’s face and gripped him into the strangest one-armed-headlock he could imagine.  Before another question could be fired off, Dean ran the clippers directly across the top of Cas’ messy dark hair, and a huge chunk fell to the ground.  In the wake of the line, there was nothing but his naked scalp, and he gasped.

Dean patted him on the cheek and asked, “How’s the length for you?”

The glare would have reduced a lesser man to quivering in the corner.  

Luckily for Dean, he was _more_ than immune.

“Don’t make a scene at my work, babe,” he clucked his tongue and repeated the man’s words right back.  He took advantage of Cas’ shock to grab the clippers and started going to town on the rest of his hair.  “You can smite me later.  After you angel-mojo your hair back on.”

“I do not believe that’s how my Father intended me to use my grace…”

“Well, sorry to tell you, buddy.  This is _not_ a good look for you,” Dean chuckled and took a sick amount of pleasure buzzing the rest of Cas’ hair to the floor.

The angel was flabbergasted as he looked at himself in the mirror, up to Dean’s simply devilish face, and back again.  He was looking around to see if he did indeed ‘make a scene,’ as that wasn’t his intent at all.  Although he had wished to corner Dean, he hadn’t wanted to-

“There ya go!”  Dean brushed off the loose hairs with a towel, opening his arms dramatically to show off Castiel‘s completely bald head.  “That’ll be fifteen bucks.”

Cas finally twisted around to bring himself face to face with the man, a confused squint on his face, “I do not have any currency, Dean-”

With a twitch and an almost-smile, the barber scoffed and said, “Go to the bank.  I’ll meet you after work.”

“But, Dean, I-”

“I’ll.  Call.  You.”  His words were clipped as the subtext read, loud and clear ‘ _get the fuck out of here before I lose my shit._ ’

He nodded and looked around wildly before Dean, none so gently, shoved him out of the chair and into the lobby.  Cas looked like he had a million things to say, but Dean was giving him that look, intensified - he might add - and growled at him, “Have a nice day, sir.”

Castiel opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a gaping fish, before he bristled and, after giving Dean one more long look, stiffly walked through the front doors.

Dean still wasn’t over the shock of seeing the man, and watching his retreating back (and bare scalp) wander aimlessly through the parking lot was… bitter sweet.  He hadn’t planned to see him again.  Ever.  Especially after how things had ended between them.  He could have gone his entire life imagining Castiel never existed, but this was a slap in the goddamn face and he was all kinds of turned around and-

“Aww, why would you do that?”  Meg asked with a dramatic pout as she sidled up next to him.  “He was so fucking fine with that wild sex hair!  What have you done?!”

Through grit teeth, Dean’s answer was simple.

“It’s all about the client, Meg.”  Dean rambled off the little motto, and then added with a certain amount of venom, “He asked for it.”

Yeah - that had a double meaning, but Meg didn’t have to know that.

She grumbled something about a tragedy before she swung her hips into the lobby and called out the name of her next client.

Dean was too busy clenching and trying to relax his fists to notice Charlie was right up in his personal bubble.  “ _Not_ what I had in mind when I said let your freak flag fly, dude.  You’re losing your touch.”

“My freak flag is at half-mast.”

“Yeah, mine would be too, I’m mourning your loss… And I sincerely apologize about that…”

\------------

Dean didn’t know what to do.  Of course, when he’d changed his entire life around, the first thing he’d done with his new phone was deliberately not add Cas’ number into it.  As much as it was a defense mechanism… he also knew that was for nothing, since he could simply pray to the asshole.  Which is what he did, when he was walking out to his car after work.

No one was in the empty parking lot, he’d been the one to close up and he figured to bite the bullet.  He wanted to get this over with.

It’s not like he could ward the entire place with sigils to keep him out.  Jo would catch on in no time… after all, they’d get in the way of all the demon warding already there…

“Glad you took my advice,” Dean said gruffly when he noticed the angel had, indeed, mojo’ed his hair back to normal.

“After our meeting, I deduced that was you lashing out at me,” he squinted and looked confused.  “Is that a common thing humans do?”

“The hair thing?”  The ex-hunter scoffed and rolled his eyes.  “Yeah.  It’s a completely normal way to let someone know to fuck off.”

Those words had the angel charging right into his space, “If anyone should be angry, it’s me.  Why did you leave, Dean?  Do you have any idea how long it took me to find you?”

“Your fault, buddy,” Dean raised his arms in front of his chest, more than ready to shove him away.  “You were the one who branded my ribs, and all.”

“I did it to keep you safe!  Not keep you away from me-”

“What’s done is done,” he didn’t want to hear another thing out of Cas’ mouth, the last thing he needed was to feel the tug of nostalgia.  “Why are you here?  What do you want?”

That made the angel hesitate.

He was about to retort immediately, but then he rethought his words.  And… lingered.

“Spit it out!”  Dean wanted to get out of here, he didn’t want Cas in front of him, looking like a kicked puppy because that stirred up… other things.

“I don’t understand what I did to merit you completely disappearing.  I thought something happened, that you were killed in a hunt.  I searched all of heaven for you, only to find out your soul was not there.  You were still alive and on earth.  But… untraceable.  Why?”

“I had to go into hiding,” he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, “Feds were after me.  I kept hunting, but it was harder without Sammy, I was bound for deep shit, Cas.”

“You had me,” his words were simple, and the words did nothing to dissuade him.  “I could have helped with the-”

“Cas!  You wanted an explanation, there it is.  It happened, I did what I had to do, okay?  I couldn’t let anyone know where I was, and that included _you_.”

Dean knew by now the angel was still struggling with the concept of lying (especially when he knew Dean was lying, too), and the emotions shined brightly across his face.  Cas was hurt by his answer, and Dean fucking hated it.  But… he wasn’t about to let that disintegrate his resolve now, not when he’s come so far…

“Leave me alone, Cas.”

After all this time, all this searching… the angel couldn’t believe he was hearing those words.  It was the last thing he’d expected - the thought of Dean ordering him to stay away left him feeling so bitter, he almost choked when he finally said, “As you wish, Dean,” and fluttered away.

Dean wanted to kick himself in the face, but instead, he ordered his feet to trek across the parking lot.  Straight to the ugly-ass off-white Subaru he was driving while his Baby sat under a tarp out in back of the Roadhouse, crying for him every night.  His life officially sucked that much more.


	2. Walk-ins (un)Welcome

For the first time in a long time, Dean actually had to grab a bottle of liquor to make himself fall asleep.  Normally, he had no problems tossing and turning to fall into a slumber.  Hell, the nightmares didn’t even phase him anymore - he’d chalked those up to facts of life.  But seeing Castiel?

There was no way on God’s green Earth, that he’d be able to catch a wink of sleep.  Instead, he’d stay up all night reminiscing about the things that had gone wrong.

Or, muse over the ideas of things that had gone right.  What _could_ have gone right.

It was too much for him, so he took to grabbing the one bottle of whiskey he had in his pathetic, little apartment.

He prayed so hard (but not literally, he didn’t want to risk the angel popping in) that Cas would take the hint.

That he’d leave him alone.

However, the angel’s words echoed in his mind, the tempo gaining momentum the more he drank.

Cas had searched all of Heaven to find him.  He’d scoured the Earth.  And even though the angel hadn’t mentioned it, there was no doubt in Dean’s mind he’d confronted Crowley in Hell.  What a snarky, fruitless meeting _that_ must have been.

So the fucker started caring _now_?  After everything.  Everything that’d happened between them, suddenly it was urgent he found Dean.  The hunter used to pray to him, all the time, before the apocalypse ended.  Hell, he tried for a little while after, but Cas apparently had better things to do.  So, Dean did what any normal, emotionally-repressed, terribly invested human would do.

He ran.

Yeah, he took advantage of the markings on his ribs.

He made sure to take cases the angel couldn’t be bothered with.  The abstract monster sightings that looked like small-fry case shit the Winchesters wouldn’t touch these days.

Dean made sure he’d never be in a position where he would need Castiel.

Hell, he was so stubborn, in fact, he’d gotten injured on a couple hunts gone wrong where he could have easily died.  Just as easy as it would have been to pray to the angel and, with a touch of his fingers, let Cas heal him.  Instead of going to brand-spankin’ new, in the blink of an eye, he suffered through broken limbs, deep lacerations, and marks to his face which made him practically unrecognizable.  Maybe stubborn didn’t even begin to cover it?

He didn’t want Cas’ healing touch anymore.

Because, that would make him crave more.  More of his touch, again.  And that wasn’t happening.

Somewhere along the way back then, things became tangled.  Sam, being there as a buffer had always helped.  But once his brother went back to school?  Went back to his previous life?  There was no way to handle Cas one-on-one.  They’d be alone and Dean couldn't pretend.  Dean couldn’t distract himself by shooting the shit with his brother.  His eyes couldn’t avert themselves from all the small, inhuman nuances which Dean found adorable on the angel.  He knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands to himself.  And then _it_ happened.

Fuck, he needed to finish this fifth, right the fuck now or else-

A better idea came to him.

He snatched up his phone, and after a few fumbled attempts at hitting the contact info it began ringing.  No time like the present for a good ol’ fashion drunk dial.

“Hey, Dean!”  His brother’s cheery voice made him feel a little better.  “What’s up?  Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.  Jus’ wanted to say hey.”  He grunted a little while he shifted on the uncomfortable chair he’s snagged from a neighbor’s trash-pile.

“Have you been drinking?”  He sounded more amused than anything.  “Here I thought you’d gotten yourself on the straight and narrow, dude.  It’s not even ten yet!”

“Cas found me.”

Dean winced when the words left his mouth.  This talk was supposed to be a distraction, goddamnit!  Not a fuckin’ confessional.  Maybe he had drank more than he thought - since his lips were looser than a whore’s vagina.

“Wondered when he would.”  Sam’s voice was surprisingly even.  “He’s come to me a few times, trying to find you-”

“You little shit!”

“Hey, calm the fuck down, I never told him a damn thing!”  His brother actually chuckled a bit, “Dude, I even sent him on a few wild goose chases, once he found out you were alive.  I should’ve felt bad, but I didn’t.  I didn’t rat you out, Dean, so take a deep breath and don’t take your anger out on me.”

“Ugh, sorry, sorry.”  With another long pull directly from the bottle, Dean made a face and grumbled, “Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem, jerk.  So, um,” he was looking for the right words, too.  “What happened?”

“Showed up at the shop.  I kicked him out, after shaving his head.  The usual.”

“What?!”

“I didn’t know what the fuck to do!  He cornered me!  Ain’t my fault.  He mojo'ed it back on right away, anyways.”

“So you _did_ see him again?”  Sam’s curiosity was getting the best of him.  “ _After_ you threw your hissy fit.”

“Hey!  That wasn’t a hissy fit, he was askin’ for it!  But, uh, yeah.  After, I told ‘m to fuck off.  He gave me those puppy-eyes, but did it.”

“You can’t avoid him forever.”  His statement was final.  “He’s done fuckin’ everything you can think of to find you, save biking cross-country, looking for your dumbass.”

“I’ll avoid him as long as I want.  He avoided me first.”  Dean knew he was being childish, but he didn’t give a flying shit.  “’Sides, should be enough for ‘m to know I’m alive, right?  Now he can fuck right off.”

“You’re dumber than I thought.“  With an exasperated sigh, Sam reprimanded, “Are you even listening to yourself?  You really think that’s enough?  He obviously wanted to see you for a reason, he -”

“Well, tough luck.  I’m gonna keep my palm cut open, ready for a banishment the second I see him again.  If he even tries.”

“That’s a health-code violation,” the man teased.  “You’re doing good at the salon.  God, I never thought those words would leave my mouth.  But, anyway, Jo keeps me updated.  Nothing’s Earth-shattering anymore, and I’ve got the bar coming up.  We’ve got good things going for us.  And while I don’t want Cas to pull you back in, you gotta talk to him, dude.”

“Ain’t got nothin’ to say.”

“Bullshit.”

“Why did I ever think this conversation was a good idea?”  Dean found himself grumbling and throwing back the last bit of alcohol left in the bottle.  “Well, I’m gonna try to pass out now.  Got an early shift’n-”

“You’re gonna be so hungover,” Sam started laughing all over again.  “Take this as a hint.  Just seeing him made you drown your sorrows?  Fix things.  Don’t be a jackass about it.”

“Whatever,” he drew the word out in a sing-song way.  “Nighty, Sammy.  Come visit me, one of these days.  I can even _professionally_ braid your hair.  We’ll celebrate when you pass your little test thing or whatever.”

“Heh, yeah.  That ‘little test thing,’ but all right.  Try not to die in your sleep.”

“Try my damnedest.  See ya, Sasquatch.”

\--------------

Yep.  This hangover _officially_ sucked.

Dean had to pull over on the side of the road once to throw up his breakfast, but he still had a full fucking day.  There was no possible way he could call in sick.  Or dead.  Or whatever the hell was happening to him right now.

Jo was gonna kill him, because he already knew he was late.

When he finally parked and trudged through the front door, Becky was eyeing him.

In that judge-y, evil, disappointed way she always had about her.

Dean had no idea why Jo had made her a receptionist.  Scratch that.  She was too fucking perky - to a fault, and her enthusiasm was contagious.  This chick would talk clients scheduled for a brow wax into upgrading their service to an additional goddamn manicure, pedicure, plus highlight combo.  But that good faith never extended to Dean.  For some reason, she had a vendetta against him.  And it showed.

“Your client is here,” she jerked her thumb in the direction of the waiting room.  “Is it that difficult to show professional courteously?  This is a business, after all.”

“Sorry, Becks, rough night.”

“I can see that.  I can smell you from here.”  Her glare never wavered.

“Gee, thanks.  Can you tell ‘em I’m setting up and I’ll be right with them?”  He rolled his shoulders, trying to get rid of some of the tension.

It was pointless, it wasn’t going away anytime soon.  Enough though he’d accomplished his goal with a bottle of liquor and got drunk to the point of incoherency last night, then passed the fuck out - he’d slept wrong on his arm.  And now, with the addition of nausea and a throbbing headache, his shoulder joint felt like it was on backwards.  Goddammit.

When he turned the corner, he nearly dropped his bag of tools on the floor.

Castiel was sitting, right where he’d been sitting the day before, staring up at him with apologetic eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing?”  Dean demanded, and looked around the salon to see who was here.  “One, I told you to fuck off.  Two, don’t you think it’s a little suspicious for my coworkers to see you grew back your damn mop overnight?!”

“I wasn’t aware mops grew,” he tilted his head to the side, and then stood up from the chair.  “I didn’t mean-” he stopped himself when he realized something.  “You’re extremely dehydrated and you have trace amounts of-”

“It’s a hangover, Cas.”  The intensity of his voice escalated, which he was trying to keep it down, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Especially, when Cas reached out and gave him the two-finger-fix-up.  He tried to jerk away, he really did, but the angel was quick.  While it felt amazing to get rid of that pain in his ass, he did not ask for it.  He did not want the angel to be here.  Nothing about this morning was right and-

“You’re still angry.”

“Ya think?!”

“Is everything alright, over here?”  Becky appeared out of nowhere, with that authoritative tone in her voice.  “Dean, are you-”

“Everything is fine, Miss Rosen,” Cas explained with a simple smile.

Becky looked between the two men and her eyes did that oh-fuck-no-what-was-she-thinking light-up move.  Fuck, fuck, fuck, this _wasn’t_ good.  Whatever idea she had in that thick skull of hers was bad news.  Even worse, because she whipped around the corner and looked as though she was on a mission.

“Please reconsider this,” the angel’s eyes were pleading and he went as far as to close the distance, once again, and grab Dean’s hand.

Which Dean immediately jerked away from.

He was damn lucky the only people in the shop right now were himself, Becky and Hannah - who was all the way across the building - in the spa room.  Except, he spoke too soon, because he could hear Lisa and Charlie’s voices giggling along to something as they walked through the front doors.

“You _can’t_ keep coming here,” Dean tried to reign in the rage.  “You’re gonna blow my cover.  You’re gonna fuck _everything_ up again and-”

“It wasn’t only _myself_ who ‘fucked everything up,’” he narrowed his eyes.

In the distance, he could hear Becky, who was clearly eavesdropping, gush to Charlie and Lisa, ‘Dean’s boyfriend just used air-quotes, oh my gosh, its so cute!’

Shit.  Shit.  Shit.  This was getting worse by the second.

All right, Dean decided to roll with it.

This time, he grabbed Cas’ hand and yanked him to the front desk.  The angel nearly tumbled over as he was pulled (none so gently) but went along as Dean approached the woman.

“All right, apparently my first _client_ called to make an appointment to take me out to breakfast,” Dean smirked and played it up as much as he could.  “He’s kinda sweet that way, aren’t you?”

Cas gaped for a moment, before nodding solemnly, “Yes.  I am.”

“Get out of here,” Becky winked and looked down to the books right in front of her.  “You’ve got an hour before your next client.”  Then, casually added, “Make your ‘breakfast’ count.”

Dean didn’t even dignify her with a response, and continued to man-handle Cas out of the salon with heavy steps and an overly rough grip around his wrist.

This was not okay.  This was not okay, at all.  The fucking smug looks Charlie was sending him, the almost disappointed glance of Lisa, and then the thrilled bounce in Becky’s words?  This was going to ruin him.  Dean wasn’t even thinking when he pulled Cas to the side of the building.  He needed to get out of earshot.  Out of sight.  And a showdown at a breakfast joint would end up with him in jail, which was the only fucking reason he was undercover in the first place.

The backside of the salon was hidden from the road and the parking lot.  There was a line of trees (more like a mini-forest) blocking the sidewalk so unless someone deliberately followed them, they’d be out of sight.

Castiel looked confused all over again when he asked, “This isn’t a food establishment-”

“We’re not eating.  I’m gonna fucking yell at you.”  Dean shoved his shoulder even though it was the equivalent of attempting to move a ton of lead.  “Why are you doing this?  Why aren’t you taking the hint?  You can’t just-”

Then, the last thing Dean ever expected happened.

His words weren’t cut off by a retort or even a classic-Cas single word.

Nope.

Dean found himself slammed against the brick wall.  With Cas’ hands tangled in his hair.  And his mouth on Dean’s.  It wasn’t until the kiss deepened, ever so slightly, that he even realized what was going on.  And as much as he wanted to soak in the moment, wanted to kiss the fucker raw, he couldn’t.

With both hands on Cas’ chest, he pushed against him with every ounce of strength in his body.

“What are you doing?!”  He demanded, hating that his voice was a bit labored from his racing heart.  “The fuck!”

The angel wouldn’t let himself be pushed away far, he remained right on the outside of Dean’s personal bubble and his hand moved from the human’s hair, to cup the side of his face.  Dean was much too distracted to swat it away, because a new type of lividity was brewing in his chest.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you again, Dean,” he admitted in a strangely shy way.  “Only, your aggression and the tool you used to remove all of my hair got in the way.”

Dean couldn’t calm down, he couldn’t catch his breath, he couldn’t -

“ _Why_?”  His voice was laced with ice.  “Why _now_?  You seemed pretty fuckin’ set on your choice before.  Why the fuck are you pulling this now?!”

“I’m not pulling anything!”  For the first time, Cas raised his volume as he surged forward and clasped both his hands down on Dean’s shoulders.  “I was confused before.  You didn’t give me adequate time for me to come to terms with-”

“Oh, I’d say you were given more than enough time, considering you were fucking me for a year, Cas.  A goddamn _year_!”

“Dean,” his voice lowered to a growl and his grip tightened.  “I do not regret even a second of that year.  What I regret, was your ultimatum.”

“You chose to play Heavenly Sheriff over me,” Dean tried to jerk out of his grasp.  “That was pretty straight forward.  Your mind was made up and-”

“It took you _four hours_ after our talk, to vanish.”  Castiel wasn’t letting Dean escape, not by a long shot.  “You acted childishly when we should have discussed it more than-”

“I wasn’t waiting around.  I wasn’t gonna beg you to change your mind.  It was a slap in the face, Cas.  The apocalypse was over, we could finally move onto new lives and you didn’t want one with me.  I’ve never put myself out there for _anyone_ before!  Of fucking course, the second I do, the instant I take a chance - it reminded me all over again why it was a stupid idea in the first place.  You can’t come around now.  We were finished, we are finished and that’s your fault!”  Dean hoped to God his tirade couldn’t be heard by anyone else, but he couldn’t contain himself.  “I was stupid to even think there was a possibility in the first place.”

The fact that the angel had the fucking balls to come back here like this?  To seek Dean out?  To do it persistently, it hurt.  He’d spent three years in solitude, in hiding and there was a reason for it.  Even though his heart still hurt with the mere thought of Castiel, he’d changed his life enough that he didn’t have to think anymore.  He didn’t have to linger… the first year had been rough, but he moved past it, and he couldn’t see him now.  It was wrecking his goddamn resolve, something he had meticulously built, brick by brick.  Now, everything was coming to a head and -

“Four hours,” Castiel repeated.  “It took you four hours to remove yourself from me, completely.  I was trying to settle things in Heaven so I could be with you, but you were gone.  You utterly vanished, without a trace.  The fact you had so little faith in me is the reason I’m so upset.”

“Leave.”  

He needed to push him away.  Before he lost his venom.  Before his heart turned on him and his voice began breaking.  He’d tried so hard to forget and the words Cas was saying were escalating the entire situation.

“No.”

The angel stood his ground with that iron-resolve frozen into his features.  He was an immovable rock, where he was blocking Dean’s escape.  Any escape.  So Dean did the only thing he could think of.    
  
He needed to get this out of his system.

It was obvious Cas was completely baffled by the way Dean grabbed the lapels of his trench coat and hauled him back in.  The bafflement changed into fuel, encouragement, and he wrenched Dean back into his grasp and returned the kiss with just as much aggression as Dean was putting out.

Their bodies were taken to a battle ground.

It was a rough, messy fight for dominance as Dean shoved the angel backwards, into the tree line.

Dean wasn’t afraid to push and pull if there was something in his way, like a fallen branch or some shit, he knew Cas wouldn’t let him stumble.  Even though the angel was staggering a little, himself.

There was a lack of air, as their mouths clashed, that left one another breathless.  Dean was relieved Cas was just as hard as him when their erections crashed together, only layers of trousers and denim between them.

Dean needed to fix this.  Right the fuck now.

He smacked away where Cas’ hands were holding them, and didn’t feel an ounce of regret turning his focus downwards and ripping open buttons and unzipping their flies.  The near-strangled noise released from Cas’ throat used to be something he lived for.  But now it was just another thing muddled in the entire process, he didn’t know what to make of it.

There was nothing gentle about the way Dean handled the angel’s cock, pumping him and smearing precum down the shaft.  Cas was bucking into the touch and finally began grappling at Dean’s clothes.  He was denied access to his shirt, but eagerly accepted the pull of his jeans.  Dean multi-tasked, using the front of his foot to step down on the heel of his other shoe and kick it off.

When his jeans fell down, he made sure the boxers went with it.  He stepped out of a single leg, leaving himself exposed enough for what he had in mind, but making due with the bare minimum.

It was when Cas reached between his legs and grabbed his cock that Dean took hold of his wrist and moved it back further.  He knew the angel would be able to mojo some lubrication, and his thought were confirmed when he felt slick fingers probing at his hole.  

When the second one was wriggled inside him, was the second Dean demanded, “More, now.”

With the order, as well as some obvious angelic grace, Cas twisted in two more fingers - which had Dean gasping in the best way possible.

He hadn’t done this in a long, fucking time, and if it hadn’t been for the angel using his powers, this would have been a drawn-out, painful process.  If there was one thing Dean knew - it was that Cas would never hurt him.  Even after all this time, he trusted him, in regards to physicalities (since he had broken his goddamn heart, _that_ kind of trust was off the table).  The angel was taking special precautions, even though the other man couldn’t give a fuck less, and Dean took advantage.

It was lightening fast - shoving the angel to the dirty, overgrown grass and climbing on top of him.  There were words on the tip of Cas’ tongue, but Dean didn’t want to hear any of it.  There was nothing tender or romantic about the way he shut him up.  Nor, the way he grabbed the base of Cas’ huge cock and lined him right up with his loosened rim.  Every single time Cas tried to pull away, tried to say something, Dean would bite his lip and muffle any words.

Then, he did something he knew would turn all Castiel’s sentences incoherent and reduce him to nothing but moans and heaving breaths.

He sank down on the angel’s cock, in one swift move.

A gasp ripped through his lungs as he felt the stretch, the familiar fullness inside him, that he hated losing so goddamn much.  Dean wasn’t going to admit it.  He was going to deliberately filter every word coming out of his mouth, because he knew he’d be mewling, ‘ _God, fucking missed this, missed you_ ’ if he weren’t careful.  He let the primitive need for sex overpower the latent feelings - it was the only way he was going to survive this.  The angel better be too distracted to read his mind.

Dean’s suspicions were confirmed by the swollen lips, the nails gripping into his hips, the desperate arches up and into him.  Dean would have felt victorious if he wasn’t achingly hard and so needing of his urgent fuck.

He swiveled his hips to get the ball rolling, and instantly Cas was spurred into action.

Every lift up and slam down onto the angel’s cock was met with a violent thrust up, their bodies still in perfect sync, even after all this time.  

Dean didn’t bite his tongue when he taunted, “You can do better than that-”

Then, the words were lost in his throat when the angel spread his own legs and planted his feet for leverage to do exactly that.  The way Cas turned the tables and was currently fucking him?  At this point, Dean was just along for the ride.

The angel had him right where he wanted him, exerting his strength to control Dean’s body and use him.  God, it was _perfect._   It was just the right amount of ruthless that got him out of his head, because everything was so goddamn carnal.

The speed of the thrusts, the depth that Cas’ perfect, thick cock reached so far inside him - then, the way he slammed up into his prostate.  Dean tried to stay upright, he really did, but the assault led him to tip over and crash back against Cas’ lips.

He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs, it was literally being fucked out of him, and the sloppy make-out left him breathless.  For the first time in forever, he shouted out when he came and blew his load all over Cas’ clothed stomach.  The euphoria was rushing through his body, as well as his brain, because Cas looked so goddamn perfect under him like this.

The rake of nails down Dean’s back, as well as the stifled moans and thrown back head, gave Dean a front row seat to watch, as Cas filled him with cum.

Fuck.  He was beautiful.

But... he wasn’t going to let himself get sucked back in.  Especially when Cas looked up at him with those gorgeous blue eyes, filled with affection.

Dean felt it, too.  But he wasn’t going to admit it.

Not now, not ever.

He needed to get the fuck away from it.

“There,” Dean was panting heavily, as he shoved off Cas’ body and began dressing himself again.  “There’s the last hurrah you wanted.  There’s some closure.  Now that you got your rocks off, you can leave me alone.”

Castiel’s eyes were as wide as saucers and he grappled for some kind of hold on Dean, but the human was too quick.  “That’s not what this was about, I want us to be together.  I’ve wanted it this whole time, you know I lo-”

“I’ve got a client,” the man snarled as he wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to make himself look presentable.

But it was difficult.  Considering the fact he’d just fucked in the woods, barely ten feet away from the salon.  He could see grass stains on his jeans, knew his hair was beyond fixing and he was in desperate need of a wet-wipe.  Or something.  But then, Cas did what he always did.

Although he couldn’t touch him, he raised his palm out and a small tingle of grace fixed all those things right up.  Goddamnit, he missed the easy life of Cas’ mojo.  But this was it.

He wasn’t going to fall into this trap again, hopefully the angel would get the fuck off his back - figuratively and literally.  Although, he was kind of on the fence about the literal part of that -no!  Stop it, stop those thoughts right now - he admonished himself.  One good (phenomenal) fuck and he was freakin’ on board?  Hell no.

He spared Cas one more look, before he spun on his heels and headed back into the salon.  Yet, even though he didn’t look back, something the angel said made him pause.

“I’ll make this up to you, Dean.  I’m not letting you go.”

Dean chewed his lip to keep from sniping something in return, but that didn’t stop him from flipping Cas his middle finger.  He couldn’t look at him, because he knew the exact fucking face he was making.  That goddamn adorable kicked puppy face.  He wouldn’t let himself give in.

He couldn’t let himself give in.

\-----------

Dean managed to get through his days off with minimal torture and only a single wet dream the first night.  He really hated himself for it, and Cas’ words of "not letting him go" lingered.  He was second-guessing what he should be doing right now…

Should he talk to Jo about this?  Get some angel warding up?

Or should he leave town and start some place fresh again?

Dean had no idea how serious Castiel was going to take this.

However, no matter what happened, Dean wasn’t going to let his guard drop again.  He wasn’t going to give in or slip up.  Although it was mostly angry-sex, Dean had meant it as break-up-sex since they never had a chance to give it one last go.  But now, Dean was thinking of it as reunion-sex, and he kind of hated himself for it.  He was going to be on guard, constantly, living in fear that the angel was literally going to pop up at any time, and it made him paranoid as fuck.

At least work would be a good distraction.  Cas wouldn’t dare show his face there again, mostly because of the impending rampage he knew Dean was more than capable of.  As much as he hated to admit it, the angel knew how to read Dean.  He knew those threats were real, and Cas no longer had any excuses to visit.  It would be too suspicious, and if he was honest about ‘trying to win Dean back?’  He’d know his job, his fucking _livelihood_ , was off limits.

Today was the day of that fucking wedding party.  The Saturday Jo had begged him to pick up because of the chaos they all knew was going down.

Bridal parties were the worst.  If you didn’t get the stereotypical Bridezilla, it’d be the mother-in-law.  If it wasn’t a psychotic mother-in-law, it’d be a bridesmaid who’s "bobby pins were in too tight and hurting her head and oh em gee I'm gonna throw up."  And then, there was always the screaming and crying flower girl, or any other demon spawns the bridal party "couldn’t find a babysitter for."  Prom was a close follow-up, the teenage brats who thought it was _their_ wedding day while they used mommy and daddy’s wallet.  But this here, today?  It was the real deal.

Dean knew he was in for a hell of a shift, when he finally yanked on his coat and headed to the salon.  With the girls all occupied, who knew what he’d get on his books.  These were the days where he’d be pulled, kicking and screaming, into a highlight, because Jo knew he could perform the service, and was a Nazi that way.

Hopefully, he would leave today with minimal humiliation and a damn good paycheck.

He sat in the car after he parked for a few minutes, getting his game-face on, because if he were honest?  He’d much rather be facing down a pack of Wendigos.  The lot was full, and he could see a couple of (what he assumed to be) bridesmaids outside smoking.  He plastered in his biggest smile and said hello to them as he walked in the door.

His smile was gone they second he was inside.

It didn’t just melt away.

It transformed into a look of horror, as he saw who was behind the front desk next to Jo.

The blonde quickly glanced up at Dean and informed him, “Hey there, Dean!  Looks like you’re not the only guy in the shop now, buttercup.  Meet Cas, he’s shadowing today.  Becky’s been working way too much, and I needed to hire another receptionist.”

Dean didn’t move.  Well, he couldn’t.

Jo was looking at him curiously, as Cas greeted him with, “Hello, Dean.”

“Heygottasetupmyclientwillbehereanysecond,” and he fled to the floor quicker than he’d ever moved in his life.

Dean collapsed into his chair and when he glanced at his own reflection, realized he was visibly pale.

How could this happen?!  Why the hell would he even-

Soon, there was a weight on his lap, as Meg helped herself, “Word on the street is you did such a good job hacking off Mr. Gorgeous’ sex hair, he recommended the place to his twin brother who needed a job.”  She patted him on the head and continued, “I’m calling dibs on this one, cowboy.”

All Dean managed was a half-hearted glare, before Meg adjusted her boobs (to seduce the ‘new employee‘), and headed back to greet the bridal party who were arriving one-by-one.  As well as making a pass Castiel.  Multi-talented skank.

Strangest part of all of this, instead of continuing his state of mortification, he nearly snapped at Meg, _"Hands off, bitch."_

But no, no, no.  This was _not_ happening.  This _had_ to be a dream.  A terrible nightmare, worse than the visions he still had of Hell.

With trembling arms, he unpacked his bag of tools and laid them out on the cart.  He pulled out the combs he’d let soak in the disinfectant overnight, and wiped them off carefully and meticulously, one by one.  He was on autopilot, because his brain completely ceased functioning.  

Even when Charlie came around, and said, “Dude, aren’t you stoked we hired your boyfriend?” he could only flinch.

The redhead looked confused, and poked him in the cheek.  “Earth to Dean.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” was his terse answer, and the woman backed away slowly.

“Why not?”  She asked innocently.  “He’s totally dreamy.”

“Charlie… go do your job,” he spat, and stood up out of his chair.

“Whatever, there’s gonna be a whole lotta UST around here now, huh?”  Her grin was cheeky as she reached around him to grab a box of bobby pins from the supply shelf.  “I can’t wait!”

\--------------

To say this was a nightmare was a euphemism at best.

Dean was constantly on guard, ready for a fight at any moment, his fingers itching for a counter-attack.  A knife.  A gun.  A _something_.

Yeah, he knew it was dumb.  He knew Cas would never do anything, but the point was, he was here.  He could.  He had the ability to out Dean (in more ways than one) at the slip of the tongue.

Who cares if it was a nice tongue… that was besides the point!

Castiel never claimed to be any good with social interaction, so, God knows how, he convinced Jo to give him the job.

Eye candy.  That was the only explanation.

He was adorable as hell, and his penchant for being socially awkward was endearing, rather than-

Dean needed to cut off this train of thought, immediately.

He couldn’t ignore the facts, Cas was staring at him every chance he got.

Maybe he was blowing things out of proportion?  In his defense, this was his first day and he was shadowing.  Another thing he had going for him was Cas was a fast learner.  And while some things he could never truly get the hang of, he tried his best and took every mission very seriously.

Which was why, it was goddamn hilarious when he informed Anna, in a tone that meant life or death, “I apologize profusely, but your next client called and instructed me to alert you she was running five minutes late.  If there’s anything I can do to-”

“It’s fine, Castiel,” Anna began laughing, since she found him as amusing and cute as everyone else did.  “Thank you for letting me know.”

That’s something which was getting under Dean’s skin, too, no matter how much he hated it.  Everyone in the goddamn salon had gone from wary to love-struck in that newborn-awkward-Bambi way in the time span of five minutes.  Hell, Meg was taking every chance she could get to flirt with him, even though he was clearly oblivious.  It was getting under Dean’s skin.

Of course, what was bothering really him?

The fact that everyone was taken with him, in one form or another, in contrast to how Dean was getting pissed off he was being fucking stalked.

How was that for irony?

Cas really was going out of his way to ‘be professional,’ which made the women coo.  And, dammit, Cas was not theirs to coo over!

He was-

Dean needed to kick something.  He needed to let out all this repressed whatever-it-was and he didn’t know how.  In times like this, when he was irritated with Cas, he’d take it out on him (the angel was ready and willing, of course) with a rough bout of sex.  However, that’s what Dean was hoping to avoid, kicking him out of his life, and all.  But now, he wanted it more than ever.  The fucking asshole was winning, and Dean wasn’t about to admit defeat.

He’d gotten lucky with the first part of the day.  It was haircut after haircut, nothing outside his comfort zone, but when he went to check his books, before he clocked out for lunch, he was dreading the second half.

Dean moved fast - he knew Castiel was in the back room cleaning up color bowls and brushes, so he stormed to the front.

He glanced over his schedule and made an aggravated noise, which had Becky raising an eyebrow.

“You know you were called in for walk-ins, Dean,” she scolded in that superior voice of hers.  “At least you make much more money doing colors.”

“Not worth it, I’m out.  Gonna grab some grub before this torture.”

Against his better judgment, he impulsively rounded his path to the spa room, where Ruby was cleaning up.  She stared at him, like she always did - haughty and unimpressed - and waited.

“Rubes, can I bum a cig?”

Her attitude transformed to amusement, as she tilted her head and asked, “Having a rough day?”

“Understatement.”

“Well, c’mon, Winchester.  I was about to take a smoke-break before my next client anyway.  Price ya pay is a story about what’s got you so wound up.”  She swung her hips as she walked, and grabbed her leather jacket from around the corner.  “Let’s hit it.”

When they walked through the lobby, of fucking course, Cas was staring him down like a hawk.  Dean quickly averted his eyes, while Ruby wrapped her arm through his and teased, “Is that newbie part of the problem?”

Dean could feel Cas get in his smite-y mode, that damn aura around him practically pulsed anger, and that was kind of an internal victory.  So he played it up, locking arms with the woman, as they strolled out the front door.

She reached into her pocket and found the lighter before her pack, as they entered the ‘smokers section’ around the building, out of the client’s view.  Honestly, Dean would be pretty embarrassed if any of his regulars caught him, but whatever.  This was more than warranted with the day he was having.  Hell, he may even buy a pack, himself.  Then, his voice would end up sounding like Cas’ and then - OK.  Stopping this bullshit, now.

Ruby pulled out two cigarettes, and Dean took one out of her hand.  She lit up hers, first, then handed the lighter over.  There was a total of three silent inhales between the two, when she finally ruined the peace and asked, “So?”

“So?”

“You’re dumb.  Tell me the story.  You know I love the gossip, and we’ve been light on it lately.  The last thing that raised any eyebrows was Charlie having to go to the ER because she was too busy ogling at Meg’s client to remember how to cut hair properly.  Needless to say, I hope this is more than you getting your period,” she tucked the lighter and pack back into her jacket.  “Is it about the new guy?”

“Yes and no,” Dean admitted, taking a long drag and reveling in the feeling of smoke burning his lungs.  “I loathe days when I do anything other than haircuts.  Becky’s got me marked down for three colors this afternoon and I fucking hate it.  And, naturally, everyone is busy with this wedding party so I can’t beg someone or blackmail ‘em.”

“Look on the bright side,” Ruby sneered and flicked the dead ashes off her cig.  “At least you don’t have four vaginas to stare at this afternoon.”

Dean made a face, “Why do you even do that?”

“Waxing is fun,” an evil smirk dawned on her face.  “It’s instant gratification.  It’s easy money.  And it makes people squirm.”

“You just like inflicting pain on the masses,” he snorted back and began laughing.  “You’re good at it, at least.  If you weren’t, people wouldn’t keep coming back for more.”

“True story.  It might have to do with the fact I offer complimentary shots to my clients before we begin the service.  Nothin' says ‘spread ‘em,’ better than tequila.”

“Dean.  What are you doing?”

Both Ruby and the stylist in question glanced over to see a pissed-off man stalking towards them.  His feet were heavy on the uneven ground, and his pace was downright aggressive.

Dean met the challenge with a glare of his own, “We’re having a conversation.  Something you’re not a part of-”

The cigarette was instantly plucked from his hand, once Cas was close enough, and Dean’s eyes widened when it was thrown to the ground and stepped on.  Like, viciously stepped on.  Like it’d killed his first born angel baby fledgling.  ...Was that a thing?

“What the fuck, Cas!  You’re not my goddamn mother!”  He hissed, and knew Ruby was watching the scene unfold with unbridled delight.  “Seriously, fuck off!”

“I’m only doing what’s best for you,” his tone turned a little apologetic, but he was still irritated when he gestured to Ruby.  “She’ll have lung cancer in fourteen years.  I can’t allow the same to happen to you.”

Ruby’s snort turned into a cackle before she took in a deep drag, and blew smoke directly in Castiel’s face.  The angel looked at her with comical horror and unblinking, desert-dry eyes, as she informed him, “It’s the second-hand smoke that’ll kill you, pumpkin.”

“I’ll have you-”

“Dudes!  Stop!”  Dean needed to end this impending fight, because, even though he’d never admit it aloud, he liked Ruby.  And if she posed any sort of threat, Cas’ angel blade (and not the sexy kind) would make an appearance any time now.  “Aren’t you supposed to be shadowing?”

“I took my lunch break when you did.  I thought we could talk.”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“Hold on,” Ruby held up a single finger to get both their attention.  “So, I’m getting the feeling you guys knew each other before Castiel, here, was hired in.  My question is how _well_ you knew each other.”

“It’s a small town-” Dean said at the same time Cas stated, “Over five years-”

“Okay, Dean, you just moved into town a couple years ago, and I know for a _fact_ it hasn’t been over five.”  A look that Dean decidedly hated crossed her face.  Her eyes lit up like she was solving a puzzle.  “So, you’re a literal blast from the past, aren’t you, Castiel?”

“Don’t answer that,” Dean growled to the angel, then turned his focus on Ruby.  “Don’t you have some pussy to wax?”

While Cas’ eyes went even wider at what he considered vulgarity, Ruby chuckled, “Hostile, huh?  Looks like I nailed it.”

She looked between the men with a scrutinizing gaze before simply saying, “I’m gonna find out the real story here, boys.  I’ve already got so many fun ideas in my head.  Can’t wait to see which one wins the grand prize!”  She reached out and patted their shoulders in tandem.  “But until then, I’ve gotta save the world, one bush at a time.”

When she sauntered away, Cas still looked completely befuddled, “What do bushes have to do with this?  Is she referring to the Biblical burning bush in-”

“Shut.  Up.”  Dean couldn’t take this, and pointed to the long-forgotten cigarette on the cement.  “You can’t do this.  You can’t baby me.  You can’t fucking roll in here, and force yourself into my life like nothing changed.  Everything changed!  And while you may have had a say before?  No, scratch that, you never had a say, but maybe I’d be a little more open to suggestion.  Point is - you blew it.  I don’t know what your deal is, but-”

“I need currency.  Since I couldn’t pay for the haircut,” a mischievous smile wormed it’s way to the angel’s face.  “It’s quite a quaint establishment, here.  I enjoy it.”

“Did you just sass me?  When did you learn to do that?”  Dean raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.  “Haircut was on the house.  You can leave now.”

He shook his head, ignoring all the hostility the human was throwing his way.  “I told you, Dean.  I made my decision.  I want to be with you.  I understand you acted rashly before, since that’s a large part of who you are, and I should have known there may have been consequences for not telling you how I felt immediately.  Now that I’ve finally found you?  I’m determined do whatever it takes to make it up to-”

“Oh, so your sweet nothings are calling me _rash_?  And now you’re blocking me into a corner and-”

“I’ve come to realize that’s the only way to make you see reason.”

There was a small pause, and Dean had to give it to him.  He ran away from his feelings, yeah, but not his problems.    
  
Until now.    
  
The issue was - Cas was _both_ a problem and a wrapped up case of too many feelings to admit.  This was a stalemate, and Dean knew when Cas was given an objective, no matter how insignificant, he threw himself into it, wholeheartedly.

Whether it be pursuing Dean, or maybe even fulfilling a life-long dream of being a receptionist.

Fuck that.  Fuck this.  Fuck everything.

“All right.  Cornering me is the way it’s done.  But it pisses me off.  I’m not gonna forgive you.  So this is pointless, but I know once you got one’a your dumbass missions you never let up.  You lost your chance.  Plain and simple.  If you can’t get that through your stupid head, at least keep from throwing me under the bus, here.  I don’t know what kind of a story Ruby’s gonna make up, but it’s gonna fly around the salon in no time.  These vultures are gonna eat us alive.”

“I apologize,” and he meant it, you could tell by the way his eyes dropped to the ground.  “Shall we… make up a story?”

“Lying, Cas?”  Dean taunted him, “What would your Father say?”

“This is for you,” the remorse was gone from his voice, and it took on a sharp edge.  “You know I’d do anything for-”

“Yeah, yeah.  Been there, done that.”  He didn’t want to hear another word, he couldn’t let any cracks form in the walls he’d constructed, and they were getting pretty damn close to breaking.  “We’ve known each other for five years, right?  Let’s say we met when I was visiting my brother in college.  We, uh, I don’t know, bonded about how we had family from the same area.  From here.  And you decided to come home recently.  This is the first time I’ve seen you since California, and while we had things in common, we didn’t like each other too much.  And that’s why I’ve been getting irritated with you.”

The angel nodded slowly, “May we change the part about you not liking me?”

“That’s the _only_ part of the story that’s true,” he narrowed his eyes menacingly.  “That’s not exactly something I can turn off.  I’ll play nice, but that’s it.”

“Then, may I ask, why we engaged in sexual activity again?”  Cas was beginning to match Dean with levels of frustration, his voice raising a level.  “If you have absolutely no interest in me, then why-”

“Old habits die hard!”  Dean threw his arms in the air.  “Now, I know for a fact you don’t need to stop at McDonald’s.  So I’m leaving now, because I’m hungry as fuck.  Zap away somewhere, but you’re not comin’ with me!”

Anyone else would have been reduced to the most intensive level of fear from the look in Castiel’s eyes.  But Dean responded, in return, with a glare of his own.

“Very well.  Becky was going to teach me how to use the cash register.  I suppose I’ll head back in.”

Neither made a move, they found themselves in a familiar position - where neither would avert their eyes.  It was nostalgic, in a way, because they always managed to find themselves here.  Only, before, there was a boat-load of sexual tension, now it was just… tension.  Dean would deny it to his last breath there was still a little sexual something teasing at the back of his brain.

“All right.  Go do that.”

“I will.”

Still.  Staring.

Fuck, what did Dean need to say?  ‘One, two, three, break?’

His stomach actually made the choice for him, making itself known with a loud growl.  Dean knew he had wasted too much time arguing, and he only had a half hour for lunch.  It was time to hustle.  So he spun around and finally dismissed himself from the situation.

Cas stood there a while longer, watching the human retreat and sighed.  Had he made a terrible decision?  He’d only meant to rekindle their relationship, but this choice seemed to make Dean much angrier than he’d initially planned.  However, there was no going back, he’d made a commitment to Joanna, who did, indeed, need help. In addition, it was his job to help people.  Not to mention the fact, now that he’d found Dean?  There was no possible way he could ignore it and stay away.  He’d make this work.  It had to work.

Except, when he was going back inside, he was stopped in his tracks by an absolutely thrilled looking redhead.  He’d come to know her as Charlie.

She grabbed him by both shoulders, and spun him around the corner so Dean couldn’t see them gathered when he was backing out of the parking lot in that ugly car.  Cas was caught off guard, and nearly tripped over his own feet, but the woman didn’t look apologetic in the least.  She was over the moon about… something.

“Oh em gee!”  She squealed.  “You and Dean were an item?  I mean, I was speculating and teasing but it’s the real deal!  And you’re here, what, trying to win him back?  This is literally the best thing I’ve ever heard!”

“No,” Cas’ heart rate was suddenly elevated as he explained, “We met in California when he was visiting his brother and-”

“Cut the bullshit right.  Now.  I heard everything.”  The smile wasn’t budging from her face. If anything, it grew in intensity.

Which made Cas very, very nervous.

“This is a tragic love story, and I’m here to bring the charming princes together!”  She announced excitedly.  “Holy shit, I’m so glad I was eavesdropping, this is amazing, this is going to be so fun, I can’t wait!”

Cas tilted his head to the side and studied her.    
  
Then he asked, cautiously, “You wish to help?”

“Hell yeah!  Dean is one of my favorite people in the world, and he deserves happiness!  And you, my friend, have been looking for him and were drawn home in a final attempt?  It’s a love story in the making!  If that part’s true, or whatever - let’s just say it is for now.  I mean, I haven’t known Dean for a super long time, but that was serious business.”  She clapped her hands in time with her pulsing elation.  “Dean gets fussy sometimes, sure, but you can tell he’s just in a bitchy mood.  But I’ve never seen him get that pissed off and flustered!  This is great!”

“I don’t understand how his negative emotions are a positive thing.”

“Of course it is!  Strong feelings are strong feelings.  After all, love and hate are basically the same thing, fine line, and whatever.  Something happened that broke you up, right, and I’m guessing it was something you did, since Dean’s acting like a scorned lover.”  Charlie’s energy was very difficult to keep up with, so Cas responded with nods and shakes of his head.  “Knew it.  So, what did you do that he’s pissed about?  What broke his heart?”

This wasn’t something Castiel could easily explain.  So he thought very carefully about the correct wording.  Something that would appease her, and Dean wouldn’t flip out about, if found out.  Well, to be honest, it was inevitable he was going to flip out.  Still, Cas needed to make this story avoid any mention of the supernatural, as his first priority.

“We were both working at the same job, and, while it was a very important job, it was difficult and taxing.  We completed our tasks, the majority of the company had dissolved and Dean wanted me to start a new life with him,” Cas hoped to his Father he was being vague enough.  “I felt there was some unfinished business with the company, and told him I was unsure.  Before I could tell him I chose him, he’d already left.  I’ve been trying to find him, but hadn’t been successful until this last week.”

“It’s been two years since you’ve seen him?  Now you got to tell him that he was the one you chose all along?”  She sighed happily, which Cas thought was insulting, because this was most definitely not something to be joyous over.  “So, he thought you kicked him to the curb, when you were really giving your two weeks, huh?”

“I-I suppose.”

“And obviously he was head-over-heels for you, if he reacted so Hulk-y.  Cut him deep, Cas.”

Castiel was becoming more and more concerned about Charlie’s mental health with every word that came out of her mouth.  Something must be severely wrong with her, if she looked at all these events with optimism.  Maybe it was some type of borderline personality disorder?  Where she couldn’t relate to the magnitude and the reality of his torment-

The horror must have shown on his face, because she quickly added, “Don’t worry, dude.  If he loved you before, he can love you again.”

“Oh.  That’s why you’re showing misplaced happiness.”

“You’re a strange one,” she winked.  “I like you.  This is going to be so much fun!  You’ll win his heart back.  Now that I’m on your side, of course!  Operation: Reunion, in effect!”

Finally, Cas found himself nodding with a crooked grin on his face, “I appreciate your assistance, Charlie.  However, I believe Dean would be grateful if we kept these past happenings between the two of us.  Well, three, I suppose.”

“Roger that.  Secrecy is key.  Don’t worry, I heard the BS spiel Dean came up with, and I’ll preach that to the choir,” she nodded vigorously and grabbed his hand.

A show of support - Castiel noted.

However, there was one thing he was confused by.

“You’re an ordained minister?  I wasn’t aware you could leave the order to have another part-time job.  Western culture must have changed in recent years.”  He sincerely considered the information with interest.

“You’re a weird duck, you know that?”  Charlie used her grip to swing their arms.  “Of course, it’d be a strange cutie like you, Dean fell for.”

Although he was quite confused up until this point, an honest smile spread on his face.    
  
That’s right.    
  
He had to remember Dean did fall for him once, they could make it work again.    
  
And although Charlie was a curious human, her excitement was contagious, and he felt a little bit of hope for the first time since he’d reunited with Dean.  Things were looking up.

\-----------

Dean need a Xanax or a fuckin’ fifth of whiskey when he huffed and puffed his way back to the salon after lunch.  He was in such a foul mood, he didn’t even get to enjoy his burger, just inhaled it.  Since someone decided to steal half his goddamn break, and now he was scrambling to get back and beg one of the girls for a color bowl and tint brush.

Those weren’t exactly supplies he had in his work bag, since he outright refused to buy ones of his own.  Because then, he wouldn’t have a good enough excuse to pass off the services.  Kind of one of those ‘sorry teacher, I left my notebook at home,’ deals.

When he came back in, he was hyper-aware of where Cas would be, and it irked him deep down to see Meg all up in his bubble with her hand on his shoulder.

Whatever.  He didn’t have time for this.

“Barely made it back in time!”  Jo teased him from the desk, then added, “Godspeed on your journey, young sir.”

The lobby, as well as the floor, was so crowded he knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with telling her to fuck off this time.

When he surveyed his station he was pleasantly surprised to find a color cape, bowl and brush sitting there, waiting for him.  He looked around cautiously, because he was pretty sure these were Meg’s, and had no idea why the hell she would be sharing with him, willingly.

“Cas asked if he could borrow them for you,” Charlie appeared out of nowhere.  “He’s sweet like that.  Plus, he’s already gotten the dynamic of the shop already.  I’m damn impressed.”

“Singing his praises already?”  Dean clucked his tongue, but couldn’t help feeling relieved he wasn’t going to have to grovel for supplies today.  “I thought it took you a little longer to vet newcomers.  Losing your touch.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

“Looks like Meg’s got all sorts of good feelings.”  It was out of Dean’s mouth before he could help himself.  He wasn’t letting go of the grumpy attitude anytime soon.

“Are you really that jealous?”  Charlie lowered her voice and leaned closer.  “He looks like a scared bunny when she comes anywhere near him.  I think he’s just putting up with her for the sake of his own well-being, and survival.  Although,” she glanced over Dean’s shoulder, where he, himself, refused to look.  “She’s not pulling any punches.”

“And why do I care?”  He narrowed his eyes at his friend and pulled some clips from his bag.  “Speaking of, why do _you_ care?”

She shrugged her shoulders with a heavy sigh, “Because I can already tell he has a crush on you.  You realize that, right?”

Dean refused to give her an answer.  He didn’t want to have this conversation right now.  Or ever.  When Charlie meddled, she took it upon herself as a personal ‘quest.’  That wasn’t something he needed.  He was still trying to comprehend the idea Cas had shoved his way back into his life, let alone the fact he was stalking him at the shop.  It was ridiculous.

“Your client’s here,” Becky announced as she peered around the corner.

Charlie kissed Dean on the cheek, telling him to have fun, then wandered off.

Taking a deep breath, Dean walked as smoothly as he could, and called her over to follow him to his station.

She was a sweet girl, her hair was up in a tight bun, and she introduced herself as Julia.  Dean smiled, went through the consultation, and when she said she wanted to go back to her natural hair color, he thought this should be easy enough.  After he draped her, she made the move to untie the rubber band.

When her hair fell down in a waterfall over her shoulders, Dean’s stomach dropped as well.

Her natural was a light, ashy blonde.  But what the wad on top of her head hid from him was about five feet of black, burnt orange, some shitty zebra-stripe highlight job, and some faded greens, blues and grey.  

She looked like a fucking African swamp creature.  Were there swamps in Africa?  That’s where hippos chilled, wasn’t it?  This.  Goddamn.  Mess.  It was already fried to hell, Dean hadn’t seen this much damage on a head of hair in a long fucking time.  Not to mention, she emphasized she didn’t want a cut, only a ‘light dusting trim of the dead ends.’  Which was _all_ of it.  

Shit, if he even poked it with bleach, it was going to fall out.  Which was the only fucking way to even begin to get her back to her natural color.  He tried not to balk because she looked ‘caught in the act’ once her hair was down.  Purposefully misleading him, making him think it was gonna be a simple all-over color.

This was one of the reasons he hated.  Doing.  Fucking.  Color.

He wasn’t Jesus, he couldn’t bless her hair in the river Jordan, he couldn’t turn a ratchet mess into a _miracle_.

Lord, save him.  He needed to do something to piss Cas off, right the fuck now, so he’d be smote.  He’d much rather be dead right now, than have to locate a goddamn magic wand to fix this hot fucking mess.

Instead, he smiled, and told her he was going to mix her color up.

He stormed into the back room, and started looking through swatch books, trying to put together some shadow a game plan.

Out of fucking nowhere, Cas’ voice was right next to his ear, while he asked a concerned, “You prayed?”

“Not now!”  Dean didn’t even try to push him away, he was much too deeply immersed into figuring out a way to pull this off.

His eyes flew from swatch to swatch, from color line to color line, and he knew this was impossible.  

Did he know any witches in the area?  Should he call a crossroads demon?

“These are all very terrible ideas,” Cas hadn’t moved from his spot, and there was finality in his voice.

Finally, Dean spun around and realized they were nose-to-nose.  Once again.  Neither backed down.  This would have been the time, a few years ago, when he would have kissed the angel stupid, a way to sooth his annoyance.

Now, not so much.

Now, he was just super fucking annoyed, without a way to quell it.

“So.  Cas.  You’re on the road to redemption with me, right?”

“Of course,” his voice was earnest and pleading, “What is it you need of me?”

Dean had to physically stop the smile tugging the corners of his mouth.  “You’re going to help me with this color.”

Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed together, “But Dean, while I understand the chemical process and the anatomy of the hair follicles, I wouldn‘t know where to begin-”

“You don’t have to.  I’m gonna throw some tinted, bullshit conditioner on this chick’s hair, and when I’m rinsing her out, you’re gonna snap your fingers and make all of her hair,” his finger aggressively landed on one of the samples in the swatch book, “ _This_ color.”

“But Dean, I-”

“No buts, Cas,” he put both his hands on his hips and eyed the angel down.  “You wanna make shit up to me?  This is how you’re gonna start.”

The angel opened his mouth to say something, then reconsidered his words.  “Whatever you need, Dean.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Thank God, he could save this yet.

\-----------------

Maybe taking advantage of the angel’s grace and desperation was wrong.

Dean hadn’t decided if it were a good wrong, or a bad one.

Fuckin’ Rainbow Not-So-Bright had been so ecstatic with her hair, she started crying tears of joy.  All eyes were on him, the other stylists looking shocked at Dean’s finished product with their jaws dropped.  He gave his coworkers a wink, gave the client a hug, and walked away with a giant fucking tip.

Only problem?

Since he was now a ‘Color God,’ Jo kept booking him more and more.  More and more referrals came in too, and his regular haircut clients could never find an open spot in his motherfucking books to get in.  

Yeah, the money was good, but he _hated_ this.  How could he be so stupid?!

Because now he was relying on the fucking angel on his shoulder, which was not a place he wanted to be.  He wasn’t doing what he actually enjoyed and he was getting way too popular, way too quickly.  If this broke his cover and some fed came in wanting heaven-sent highlights, he would literally jump off a bridge if only to avoid jail.  He was not about to drop the soap, especially now that he had the job ‘stylist’ tacked all over his current profile.

The worst part of it all?  Cas would ’grip him tight’ and raise him outta death.  Again.

Fuck, he hadn’t wanted to be indebted to Cas, but the angel made it so easy.  Not to mention, when he could do something for Dean, he got the biggest, happiest, gummy smile Dean had ever seen and it kind of melted his heart.  He wasn’t taking advantage of Castiel if it was mutual, right?  As crazy as it sounded… he was glad this made the angel happy.  In a weird way.  He’d never admit it.

The other stylists followed him around, demanding his formulas, which he didn’t even have to give.  He’d bullshit something about how he was taught this technique in one of the continuing education classes Jo had dragged him to.  He told them they should check it out next time one was offered.  ‘He wasn’t giving out his mad-skill tricks for free.’

He hated lying through his teeth, no matter how good he was at it.

Still, he was just waiting for the day Jo demanded if he was using hoodoo or really did have a demon he was in cahoots with.

Nah, just an angel ex-boyfriend who went against the bible and used his angelic powers for the hottest new trend of ‘mermaid hair.’

This was getting ridiculous.


	3. Shear Genius

All right, so it was a fact, Dean was appreciative as hell of Cas.

Not to mention, the angel wasn’t trying to make any moves.  He was being a model employee and there wasn’t a second Dean felt as though Cas was about to blow his cover after their latest ‘chat.’ He was respecting all the parameters Dean set.

To a goddamn T.

And he didn’t know how he felt about it?  The more he was around Cas, the more he missed him.  Like… _missed him_ , missed him.

It was a change of pace from the old days.  When they were comrades in arms who fucked when the adrenaline of a hunt went right to their dicks.  But it wasn’t only about sex, things had developed into something more between them.  Hell, Dean had been completely ready to make a life with him.  And seeing Cas in this normal, human setting?  Something almost domestic?  But not.  At all.  But kinda?  Why the fuck didn’t the angel let him know sooner?  If he really, really had wanted it?

Dean was, God help him, regretting the past.

Regretting the fact he had been (and was still being) so stubborn.  But it wasn’t something he could turn off - flick the fucking switch or something.

The angel was fitting in with everyone flawlessly.  He was an asset to the team (as well as Dean’s personal little color helper in a trenchcoat) and everything fit together here.  Maybe… he should make a move?

No.  His pride wasn’t gonna let him do that.

But, if the angel made a move... he wasn’t about to stop him.  Dean told himself it’d be a reward for Castiel not fucking up and helping him out.

Now, if Cas would just get with the goddamn program, they could get this show on the road.  He was more than ready to give him that reward.

\--------------

As odd as Charlie thought it was that Cas never ate when they went out to lunch, she chalked it up to some kind of hippie cleanse.  After all, he did usually order a lemonade or a coffee, maybe he grew his own food at home?  Raw food diet, Taoist kind of dude?  She had a million theories about him shuffling around in her head, and it was fun to entertain a world of make-believe.  The more ridiculous the better.  All she really knew about him, was the here and now.  She was only told bits and pieces about their past.  But if there was one thing she knew, it was Castiel was loyal to Dean.

She’d try to ask casual questions for him to give some kind of tell, but it never worked.

Dude was smart.  And slash or sneaky.

Still, it wasn’t just the mystery about him she found endearing, it was everything.

Which was why when they went out to Panera one such afternoon, she finally snapped.

“Cas, it’s like you aren’t even trying with Dean!”  She lamented in between bites of her Panini.  “I thought you were, like, biding your time.  Making him desensitized to seeing you again, but don’t you think it’s time to do something?!”

“I do not wish to make Dean uncomfortable,” he admitted earnestly, with his hands neatly folded on the table.  “I want to help him, and hopefully, once he sees me as valuable-”

“Stop.  Stop it right there,” Charlie ordered and shook her head.  “That’s not how relationships work.  The road goes both ways, buddy.  I can tell he’s into you, he’s not running from it anymore, so you need to pull on your big girl panties and make your move!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  He reached for his lemonade and took a sip.  “This is progress.  The entire situation is developing and I don’t want to ruin it.  Especially with women‘s underwear.”

“Fine!”  She slammed her hand down on the table dramatically.  “I’ve been trying to wing you, whispering things in his ear about you, things that actually make him blush, so I know he’s gaga over you too.  But if you’re not gonna do something to seduce him, this isn’t going to work!”

Cas jerked back a bit from the table at the intensity of her words.  “I-”

“No, no, sorry.  It’s just… you’re all yearn and no play.  I mean that in _every_ sense of the word.  Are you sure this is what you want, because the way you’re acting-”

“Dean is all I want!”

His volume caused half the restaurant to spin around and stare at him, but he didn’t care.  How could the woman question his loyalty?  His motives?  The feelings deep in his heart?

“Okaaaay, deep breaths, kid.”  Charlie reached and grabbed his arm before shaking him a little for good measure.  “We’re gonna fix the no-play part of this.  We’re going out tonight.  We’re gonna have some fun, and we’re gonna see if it’s just tunnel vision or true love.  Deal?”

“I, uh-”

“Deal.  It’s been struck.  You can’t go back on it.  This is going to be a test.  For _both_ of you.  Leave the details to me, all you have to do is tag along like a good little boy and, so help me, you _will_ have some fun!”  Charlie picked up her tray and watched Cas follow her hesitantly.  “Don’t look so scared.  Makes me feel like I’m kicking a kitten.”

“All right.”  He nodded slowly, as he trailed behind her.  “I’ll put my trust in you, Charlie.”

\-------------

When they got back to the salon, Charlie was on her game.  She was fluttering back and forth, talking with the stylists about a night out on the town because tomorrow the salon was closed.  She knew, from experience, the weeks were rough and they only had one night to head out when bars and clubs would be packed.  So they should take advantage of it.  Or so she said.

What she _really_ wanted was to get Cas out of his box.  He needed to go play in the real world, because all this fawning over Dean wasn’t getting anything accomplished.  Reminding herself that she didn’t even know their past, it made her internally ask questions.    
  
What if it _wasn’t_ as serious as Cas was making it out to be?  What if it was something he blew out of proportion in his mind and he wouldn’t let it go?    
  
A simple crush, maybe?  Things like that happened all the time.  
  
What would happen if he realized there were more fish in the sea (since all of Charlie’s assistance has, so far, been for nothing).  She could at least break it to him through liquor and beer.  He was a hottie - he could find someone new in no time flat.  She knew he wasn’t going to have any trouble at all finding a rebound if need be.

Once she got the majority of the women on board, she made a special trip to the break room to put the icing on the cake.

Meg was focused on her phone while she was waiting for her color client to process, and didn’t even look up when Charlie dramatically fell into the chair next to her.

“So… whatcha doing tonight?”  She began conversationally.

Meg spared her a half-second glance and shrugged her shoulders, “Not sure yet.  Why?”

“We’re going out for some stylist bonding time,” Charlie took to poking her in the side.  “Wanna join?”

“Like I don’t see you all enough as it is?”  Her voice was sarcastic and she shook her head.

“Castiel’s joining.”

All right, _that_ got her attention.

Her phone was forgotten on the table, her entire body shifted so she was looking right at Charlie with a predatory smirk, “My little angel?  Filled with alcohol?  Ripe for the taking?”

“Could you sound more like an evil villain?”  Charlie rolled her eyes, but remembered this was part of the plan.  “He told me he really hoped you’d come out with us tonight.”

“Did he, now?”  Her grin spread even further across her face as she stared Charlie down, demanding to know more with her eyes.

“Yeah, but it was in confidence,” she dramatically winked.  “I think he’s into you, but he’s shy, you know?  Maybe tonight he’ll get up the nerve to do _something_.”

‘Something’ applied to Dean, more than anything.  But Meg didn’t have to know that.  In fact, Charlie didn’t feel even a _little_ bad about giving the woman false hope.    
  
Meg was a big girl, she could take care of herself, and no matter what happened with Cas she’d find some dude to go home with that night.  That was a proven fact: a drunk Meg was a horny Meg.  And the woman was not lacking in the art of seduction.  Charlie was putting plan jealousy into action because if there was one thing she knew about Dean?  He didn’t handle threats well.

Actually, he did.   _Too_ well.  Which was the whole point.

“I think my schedule just opened up, pray tell, where are we headed?”

“I think that new club down on Fifth sounds promising, yeah?”  Charlie could help but join in the evil villain club, even if it were for her own reasons.  “Remember, he’s gonna be shy, but that’s ‘cause he’s Cas.  I say you should go for it.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”  Meg thoughtfully tapped a finger on her chin, and mused aloud.  “I believe I just bought the perfect dress for such an occasion.  I’ll be happy to break it in.”

Maybe this was too much for Charlie, because she gulped after hearing that.

Meg didn’t take no for an answer and she’d completely forgotten to note that in her carefully-thought-out game.  Maybe this hadn’t been the best plan?  Well, shit.  
  
Too late, now.

\----------------

There was a buzz around the salon and by the end of the day, every woman working there (after her last client) was doing each other’s hair.  Or their own hair.    
  
The more Dean glanced around, he realized this was serious business.    
  
These chicks were going all out with the curling irons, hair spray and makeup.  They had to be planning some kind of public invasion, he just knew it.  He could feel it in his bones.

Lisa walked over to Dean’s station as he was cleaning up and used his mirror to deliberately apply gloss to her full lips.  Which happened to be a bold burgundy-violet shade.  He watched the woman carefully and asked, “Who are you looking to impress?”  

He said it flirtatiously and received a wink in return.  “Why?  Is it working?”

“You know you’re a ten, Lise, let’s be honest,” he let the thought linger as he turned around to see all the woman doing the same.  “But for real, what gives?”

“We’re going out tonight.”

“All of you?”  He raised an eyebrow, because why hadn’t he been told about this?

“Yep,” Charlie piped up from the other side, before she asked Lisa, “Can I re-pin, like, two curls in the back?”

“Yeah, thank you!”  She smiled appreciatively as Charlie went to work fine-tuning her hairstyle.

“You wanna come?”  Charlie asked with all the nonchalance in the world.

Because she knew the answer would probably be no.

“Nah,” he watched them both carefully, taking stock of the situation.  “Where are you even going?  You’re all painted-whore-y tonight.”

“Gonna let off some steam at that new dance club.  I splurged tonight and got a sitter for Ben.” Lisa was the one who answered him.  “You should come!  It’ll be fun.”

All right, Dean _knew_ she was deliberately flirting and trying to lure him in.  Because in off-work hours?  Jo couldn’t really yell at the stylists for flirting obsessively with one another.  And, if she didn’t know about it, hooking up.    
  
Which meant that, even though this would be away from Jo’s prying eyes, Dean was clearly not interested.  And it had to do with a stupid blue-eyed angel who had to go and turn his world upside down again.  Dammit, a couple months ago, he would have jumped and done _backflips_ for the chance of a wild night with Lisa.  But now?

He couldn’t help but stare off to where he knew Cas was.  Hopefully, no one noticed.

But what he noticed was the fact that Meg was all up in his damn business, playing with his hair and cooing, “Can’t wait until tonight.  You owe me a dance.”

To which he responded, “I’m quite ill-suited for dancing.”

She leaned towards him even closer, and Dean could barely hear a whispered, “Let me show you, I’m very good.”

“What time are we meeting?”  Dean blurted to Charlie and Lisa who were still hovering, putting the finishing touches (clouds of hairspray) on each other.

Both women blinked and exchanged glances.  Then they both smiled for their own reasons.

Lisa, because she thought she was going to score with Dean - Charlie, because she knew her plan was working.

Charlie glanced to the clock and responded, “Well, we’re already sexified so all we really need to do is go home and change.”  She turned the next part of her statement to Lisa, “Probably a little over an hour?  It’s already after nine.”

The other stylist nodded, “That’s what everyone’s saying.”  Lisa reached down and let her fingertips brush Dean’s shoulder, “Does that sound good to you?

“Yep.  Good.”  His answers were clipped and specific.  He also knew where the woman (who was still touching him) was hoping it would go with these subtle hints.   
  
And that wouldn’t do.  

“Char, you wanna come over to my place first?  You can pick up those DVDs before you get ready, help me pick out an outfit.  Know how you love fashion shows.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow at the same time Lisa sighed a defeated, “See you tonight, Dean!” and walked off.

The redhead leaned in and asked quietly, “Are you cockblocking yourself, sir?”

“No,” Dean looked thoroughly offended.  “Just thought we could, uh, head over together.  You know.  You’re, like, my best friend here and we’ve had next to no bonding time lately.  Which is totally your fault.”

What the man really meant was, 'you’ve been hanging out with Cas constantly, and I need to know the details.’  Charlie knew.  But Dean didn’t know that Charlie knew, so she was going to go ahead with the plan. And take it to a whole new level.

“Yeah, sounds good.  Just gotta take care of something first,” she flounced away to where Meg was still chatting with the angel.

“Cas, I’m sorry, I think I’m gonna ride with Dean tonight,” she shrugged her shoulders (raising her voice loud enough for the other man to heard) and tried to look apologetic.  She was anything but.  “I feel bad, and I know you do public transportation.  So, uh, if it’s not too much trouble, Meg, could you give him a ride?”

She raised a very pleased eyebrow, “No problem at all.  Have fun bonding with the Color Wizard over there.”

Castiel looked at Charlie in confusion, but her expression back read ‘shut up, I know what I’m doing,’ so he played along.  “Thank you very much, Meg.”

“Anything for you,” her hand slid down to caress his arm.  “Do you want me to take you home now to get ready?”

Dean’s whole body froze up from where he was purposefully not watching the exchange.

“That won’t be necessary, I can make it home alright.  I can text you my address when I’m there, and you may come around ten?”

Meg had his _number_?!  What the fuck, _Dean_ didn’t even have his number.  Not like it mattered, because all he had to do was pray but that was completely beside the point-

“Sounds _perfect_.  Well, I’m off to get ready, but I’ll see you soon, Clarence.”

Dean was seething in his seat while Charlie and Cas spoke casually.  His mind was racing.  What exactly was going on with those two?  Had he previously _known_ Charlie was taking Cas, he never would have said a thing!  It was all to get _Lisa_ off his goddamn back, and look what happened!

“Come on, Char.”  He stood up abruptly and headed for the front door.

He needed to get home and get a beer in him before they even headed to this hell hole.  Who the fuck knew what was going to happen tonight, but Dean was going to make sure Cas wasn’t going home with Meg.  Even if he had to kill the woman to do it.

\--------------------

Hanging out with Charlie always put Dean at ease, but even BFF-sedation couldn’t help him now.

He had too many conflicting thoughts, too many questions, and too many problems on the horizon.   Since he had been trying to get away from Lisa, in the process, he’d accidentally left Meg alone with Cas.  Which freaked him right the fuck out.

Charlie was drumming her fingers on her thigh along with the music in the car, before she said, “Whatta say we get a cab tonight?  We can go to my apartment first, I’ll get ready, then we can leave your Baby at your place and get white-girl wasted!”

“That works for me,” Dean responded with a grin, because it really did.  Thank God, and hallelujah for alcohol.  “But when are you going to get the DVDs?”

“I know that was bullshit, Dean, don’t even pretend.”  She leaned a bit close and dramatically whispered, “You also can’t pretend there wasn’t a jealous rage coursing through your veins when Meg said she’d pick up Cas.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Dean focused on the road and didn’t even give Charlie the satisfaction that she was right.  “So, uh, what do you guys talk about?  Feel like you’ve replaced me with him.  Hurts a guy’s feelings,” he teased and tried to steer this in another direction.

“All our talks are top secret,” she sang out, “Maybe you can ask him about them, once you’ve got some whiskey in your system.”

“I don’t need to be drunk to talk to Cas.”

“I beg to differ.”

“And when did you become such an expert?!”  He didn’t mean to snap, really he didn’t.

But Charlie wasn’t about to push him, so she relaxed back in her seat and looked out the window.  “Chill out, dude.  You’re getting all butt-hurt for no reason.  Remember the good ol’ days where banter didn’t end in rage?”

Dean huffed a deep breath and was quick to say, “I’m sorry, Char.  It’s been a rough week.”

She reached out and patted him on the back.  “Which is why we’re getting a cab.  Time to drink, let all that pent-up frustration fly and make poor decisions!”

“Is this foreshadowing?”  He raised an eyebrow, because there were so many things that could make for poor decisions.  “That was _definitely_ foreshadowing.”

Charlie outing his feelings for Cas (he knew she knew).  The angel getting tired of him, tired of waiting and moving on.  Moving on with Meg.  Or, who knows - maybe he’d even go back to something he knew already and find a hot guy to take home and fuck.  Did Cas even have a home?  Or did he go chill in Heaven in-between shifts?  Oh well, it’s not like he couldn’t just zap into a hotel room.  Which had a door, that Dean could _easily_ kick down and _murder_ the fucker who was gonna take his angel away-

“Uhh, you coming up?”  Charlie asked carefully.

“What?”

“We’ve been parked in front of my apartment for, like, five minutes.  You in a fugue state, weirdo?”

“Fuck it, I know,” he started laughing, “Yeah, I’ll go up with you.  Gotta make sure what you’re wearing won’t embarrass me by association.”

“Speak for yourself, Winchester!”

\---------------------

Charlie had planned this out flawlessly.  Really, though, she had outdone herself with perfection this time.  Not even a week ago, had she taken Castiel shopping because his wardrobe needed some serious work to be up to ‘salon standards.’  And in the midst of that, she also convinced him to pick out some sexy other numbers because, let’s be honest, the dude was clueless.

And said dude had a rockin’ bod it was a shame not to take advantage of.  Especially, taking into account her current quest.  (You’re welcome in advance, handmaiden Winchester.)

She’d texted Castiel once she knew he was at home and instructed him exactly what to wear.

And, as Charlie lead a very disgruntled Dean into the club, her hard work had paid off.

Dean froze in the doorway, as the bouncer was checking his ID, when he caught sight of Castiel at the bar.  The door guy had to physically shove the laminated card back into Dean’s hand and order him to get a move on, since the line was long tonight.

Charlie knew he wouldn’t be able to resist the handsome blue-eyed man in a pair of sinfully tight, black skinny jeans, a stone-washed grey v-neck and a perfectly tailored suit jacket.  The fashionable high-tops were just another cute addition.  She was very pleased with herself, as well as Dean’s reaction.

She was looking pretty damn hot herself.  She knew blue was her color and the wrap dress showed off the curves she had (which wasn’t too much, but enough, okay?) and she’d convinced herself to don a rather intimidating pair of stilettos.  After all, with all this hard work?  If those idiots didn’t go home together tonight, she would at least gonna find herself a hot chick at the club.  And as she looked around, they were everywhere.

With a mental high-five to herself, she looped her arm through Dean’s and asked, “What are we waiting for?”

Dean wasn’t exactly sure what to do, so he let Charlie lead them through the crowd. Soon, they were near the bar half the staff was currently making a ruckus at and taking shots like water.  Suddenly, the two beers Dean had to soothe his nerves paled in comparison to where his co-workers already were.

What was even _weirder_?  Cas was laughing - full-body laughs - at something Meg said.  And he seemed a little drunk.

How the hell much did he have to drink?  Last Dean knew, the angel had to drink a damn liquor store to get even remotely buzzed.  Maybe he did in preparation for this night?

But _why_?

And why the fuck was he so cozy with Meg?!

He felt his protective instincts flare up and thankfully Charlie lead them to an open spot at the bar which wasn’t directly next to the group.  They hadn’t been spotted yet.  Charlie and Dean had a mutual understanding they both needed liquid courage and they needed to be sneaky.  Dean, to make this situation right, and Charlie to watch the awkwardness about to go down.

She blinked and watched as the man got right down to it.

He ordered four shots and two beers.

But when he pointed, he said, “You get one shot, and one beer.  On me.”

“Well, alrighty then.  Alcoholic, much?”

“Shut up, I‘m treating you, you‘re not allowed to name call,” his voice was tense as he raised his glass for a cheers.

Charlie obliged with her singular shot, then watched him drain the next two as well as half the beer.

At least her suspicions were confirmed that Dean wanted Cas just as bad as the other man wanted Dean.  

Hopefully, this didn’t get sloppy.  Who the hell was she kidding, _of course_ this was going to get sloppy.  After all, she _had_ orchestrated it that way.

It took one more beer for the others to notice them.

More specifically, Ruby.

Who obnoxiously called out, “The fuck are you idiots doing over there?   _We’re_ the party!”

Finally, Dean was feeling easy enough roll his shoulders and follow where he was ordered to go.  Charlie had to put a steadying arm on his back because this heels were probably not the best idea, after all.  Maybe she could literally tumble into a hot babe and break the ice that way?  Hm, new consideration for a pick-up line.  
  
Cas hadn’t noticed Ruby’s outburst and Dean had the advantage of sneaking up on him.

He got right up in his personal bubble and asked, “You havin’ fun, there, Cas?”

The angel spun around, clearly taken off guard, and blurted, “You came?”

“That’s what she said,” he winked, which had Cas looking all sorts of adorably confused.

“I still have no idea who ‘she’ is, after all these years.”

“Don’t worry about it, buddy.”  So sue him, if he reached out and patted Castiel on the back.

He may or may not have been craving the touch, on a basic level.  And his brain was starting to respond to the whiskey and telling him, ‘oh, yes.  This is good.   _Very_ good.’  The warmth of Cas’ body felt nice under his hands (oh, if only there was _more_ of his body underneath him) and-

“I actually am surprised you showed, Deano,” Meg perked up from behind Cas and latched onto his arm like a goddamn squid.  “Takes a lot to get you to have any fun.”

“Dean is quite a bit of fun,” Cas instantly tried to save his reputation.  “Just because he hasn’t been going out as much as before, doesn’t mean-”

“You don’t gotta defend me,” Dean tried to sound annoyed, but it was laced in fondness.  “Thanks, anyways.  You’re a peach.”

“Isn’t he though,” Meg leaned closer to the angel and it made Dean’s skin crawl.  “How about that dance you promised me?”

“How about we catch up,” Dean sent a pointed look to the angel.

Cas looked between the two, with even more confusion than before, until he slowly replied, “I’ll dance with you soon, Meg.  I haven’t had much time to talk to Dean, as of late.”

“Fine,” she shrugged her shoulders and brushed it off, before directing her attention to Charlie.  “Why, Bradbury!  You’re looking smokin’ tonight.”

“I know, right,” she winked, and walked to take Cas’ place so the two could have a little bit of privacy.

Dean pulled Castiel away, and demanded, “How the hell much have you drank?”

“Well, I was instructed to ‘pregame’ until I felt a buzz, Meg said it was to save money at the bar, but I don’t think that’s correct because the enjoyable liquor is expensive and I lost count after bottle number-”

“ _Jesus_ , Cas!”  Dean groaned, but couldn’t help from laughing.  “Just be lucky you were alone.  Wait.  You _were_ alone, right?”

With the roll of his eyes, Cas quipped back, “Somehow I doubt our co-workers would be very understanding of my tolerance.  I’m not an idiot.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Dean really meant it.  “I just, you know, worry about you.”

“Since when?”

Oh, and _apparently_  a drunk Cas was now a sassy Cas.  Where had this come from?  Dean thought this was amusing as fuck and was going to use this to his advantage.

“Since the first time I found out how good you are with your mouth,” Dean drew out slowly, and finished with, “You know.  When the tides turned, and you started bitching out the winged-doucebags and savin’ Sam and my asses.  You know how to use your words.”

Just as Dean had planned (and hoped) Cas looked at him with slightly open mouth, and Dean felt himself gravitating to those lips.

Except Cas had to ruin the moment with, “Was that a flirtation?”

“Flirtation?”  Dean echoed with a huff.  “You’re getting those a lot these days, aren’t you?”

“I’m having difficulty differentiating what is and isn’t,” he took a sip of his beer without breaking eye contact with the other man.  “Is it a flirtation when you tell someone they look nice, and they reply their dress would look nicer on my floor?”

Dean had a mouthful of his drink just in time to sputter half back into the glass, “What?!  Who said that?”

The fucker looked full of himself when he replied, “Meg.  She also told me-”

“I don’t wanna hear it!”  Dean snapped and then looked around to see if anyone had noticed his outburst.  “She’s trouble, Cas.  You seriously don’t want to get involved with her.”

“I think she’s a very nice woman.”  He tilted his head to the side and asked, “What damage has she caused you?”

He didn’t have an answer.  He didn’t have a fucking answer, but he wasn’t about to encourage Cas to have anything to do with her.  So Dean did what Dean did best.

He lied.

“She’s a homewrecker.  She fucks married men and ruins love, Cas.  Isn’t that one of the cardinal sins?”

His expression turned thoughtful.  “Adultery certainly is.  However, she’s not the one committing the crime.  Seeing as how she‘s made a point to tell me, _numerous_ times - might I add - that she‘s single.”

Dean’s brain quickly skimmed through those commandments Sam used to rattle off when they were looking for clues on Seals and stopping the Apocalypse.  The things that irked the ‘believers.’

“Well, did you know, for one, she’s atheist, so you guys are going nowhere fast.”

“If I told her I was an Angel, she would certainly believe in my Father.”

“Pretty sure she’s talked about an altar to Satan at home.  Plus, her taglines are “Jesus fucking Christ,” and “Goddamnit.”

“Those are some of _your_ favorite words too, and I forgive you for that.”

“Well, I can guarantee if she can’t get you in her bed tonight, she’s gonna bring home another dude.  There will probably be morning sex when she should be in church, or whatever.”

“It’s none of my business who she engages in sexual activity with.  I highly doubt she’s seducing me.”

“She hates her family.  Pretty sure when she was younger, she poisoned the family cat, so she’s a murderer.”

At this, Cas (fucking _finally_ ) became alarmed, “Why would she do that to an innocent animal!?”

“Dunno, I just hear the stories,” Dean smiled, he was finally getting somewhere, he was sure as fuck gonna keep going.  “She’s stolen my clients, then lied about it.  Not to mention, she’s jealous as fuck.  She told Jo she coveted-”

“ _Dean_.  Are you attempting to use the Ten Commandments as a way to degrade her?”  Cas swiftly interrupted.

“Uh.  No.”

“You would never use the word 'covet' in your dialogue.  I know you.  Too well,” he narrowed his eyes and took a step closer.  “Why would you lie?”

“How do you even know how I talk anymore?!”  Dean demanded back, “Why for art thou getting up in my space… -eth?”

“Dean.”  Oh shit, it was that low growl that went straight to Dean’s dick.  “Are you jealous?”

“I doth covet.”  All right, at this point, he began cracking up, he couldn’t take this anymore.  “I think I need another drinketh.”

Castiel was hot on his heels when he turned back to the bar and before he could even order a refill, proclaimed, “You _are_ jealous.”

He didn’t answer the angel with any confirmation, and instead asked, “You want a drink?”

The bartender was right there, so Cas didn’t even get to respond, but Dean took care of that for him.  Soon, a shot and a refill of both their drinks were on the bar top, Dean threw a cash payment at the man and turned back around to face Cas.

“Cheers?”  He nudged the shot glass towards the angel, then raised his.

“And tell me, what are we celebrating?”  Cas accepted the drink and tilted his head to the side.

“To cleansing you of heathens!”

“I still don’t think that-”

Dean wasn’t about to hear the rest, he clinked his glass against Cas’, threw it back and chased it with his beer.

Thank God, Cas followed suit, but then they were right back at it, staring at each other.  And after this little rush of liquor he was beginning to feel brave.  Apparently, the angel was too, because his eyes kept flickering down to Dean’s lips - which had the barest glaze of beer on them.  Fuck yes, he was leaning in and-

“Dean!  Will you dance with me?”  Lisa strolled right around and grabbed his hand.

“Don’t forget you owe me a dance, Clarence,” Meg cooed, wrapping her arms around the angel’s midsection and dragging him backwards.

Away from Dean.

Dammit!  He was pissed.

Whatever.  Two could play at this game.

He turned to Lisa and smiled, “I’d love to dance.”

Her smile turned into something more seductive and Dean knew she was trying to get him all riled up.  But if he was riled up at all, it wasn’t from her.  It was fuckin’ lingering sexual tension from Cas, who was already on the dance floor.  And, unfortunately, Lisa dragged him the other direction.  He couldn’t even see if Meg was putting the moves on Cas, if Cas reciprocated, or if-

He took in a quick heave of a breath and turned back to the brunette.  He had to hold out hope Cas took at least one of the things he said seriously.  Meg was one of those girls who always got what she wanted.

Dean hoped she didn’t get anything in the three or four minutes it would take to get back to him.

\-----------

Cas was a little confused as he looked around the dance floor.  All the other couples were smiling at each other, one arm around the other's waist while their hands were linked.

However, Meg was making herself comfy, very, very close to him and he could feel her breasts rubbing up against his chest.  Her cheek was pressed to his shoulder and, yes, she did indeed grab a handful of his rear with a giggle.

He didn’t know what to do in this situation.  He was extremely confused, and he wanted to ask Dean what was supposed to be done in an instance such as this.  He was more than out of his element and he was glad he’s already given her the disclaimer that he knew next to nothing about dancing.  However, looking around the room, Meg didn’t look like she knew much either, compared to the masses.

Especially, since her hand had moved from his rear and was creeping closer to the front of his pants.

Yes.  It was confirmed.  This was most _definitely_ a flirtation.

“Whatcha thinking about, Clarence?”  She tilted her chin and whispered, in what he supposed was supposed to be a ‘bedroom voice’ into his ear.

Well, there was one thing.

“Is it true you poisoned your cat?”

“ _What_?!”

\---------------

Before long everyone was back at the bar, doing a team-building round of shots in the name of the salon.  Dean couldn’t be happier.  His dance with Lisa had been tame, something across the room had caused Meg to shout and there were a million different reasons that could have happened… hopefully, it had been another incident like their night out at the ‘Den of Iniquity.’

Still, he hesitated going back to Cas.  He was chatting with Lisa about how Ben was doing in school, and it was actually cool to hang out with her.  He appreciated their easy friendship, and would really hate it if she _did_ make a move tonight.  This dynamic was good.  It would suck to ruin it.

Plus, he felt pretty damn awesome right now, and that may or may not have to do with the fact Charlie and Cas were chatting up a storm.  Things got even better when he overheard Meg and Ruby chatting.

“I’m getting serious mixed signals here,” Meg’s disgruntled voice echoed a bit with her mouth hovering over the rim of the beer bottle.

“What do you mean?  Looked like you guys were getting cozy.  Glad you finally got your hand on that perky ass,” Ruby giggled, and suddenly, Dean felt a flair of something nasty go through him.

“Yeah, he let me.  But when I was trying to get him all excited, he asked me if I poisoned my cat…”

“Hold the phone,” Ruby started cackling, “Maybe he’s too sweet and pure to say ‘pussy.’

“Fuck if I know.  Does that mean he’s asking if I’m clean?  Like, STD-free?”

“How did you respond?”

“I didn’t.  The song ended.”

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing.  If he wants to know if you’re a safe, green light, that means he wants to fuck you, right?”

“You’re right.”  Meg’s tone lit right up.  “I’m gonna go tell him my kitty is squeaky clean.”

“Dean?   _Dean_?”  Lisa leaned forward and tried to get the man’s attention, for who knows how long.

He had literally balked at the overheard conversation.  And he knew one thing:

“Sorry, Lise, I’ll be right back.  I’ve got a kitten to catch.”

“Dean, maybe you should lay off the booze and get a glass of water…”

Lisa probably said more, but her voice faded over the booming music as Dean whipped to the bar, took another shot, and then made a B-line for Castiel.

\---------------

Cas and Charlie were laughing to each other, after she explained to him that Meg was, indeed, trying to get in his pants.  It wasn’t as though he didn’t believe Dean, it was simply because he needed another opinion since the hunter was indeed ‘wasted.’  He relayed the story about Dean trying to discredit Meg as the good human he saw, and that’s why Charlie was nearly choking on her beer, because she was laughing so hard.

“Dude, I think it’s time to make a move.  If Dean’s going to those lengths to get you away from _her_ , it means he wants you to get close to _him_.”

“Are you absolutely positive?”  He narrowed his eyes in that deadly-serious way, but then candidly admitted, “I’d much rather have him in my pants.  He looks very attractive tonight.  Well, if I’m being reasonable, he always looks attractive, but I’m having difficulty not making advances.”

“Then make ‘em!  Am I going to have to shove you two together?”

“Clarence!”  Meg called, skipping over with a devilish smirk on her face, “I need to talk to you about something.”

She was reaching out to take his hand, but it was promptly swatted away by an aggressive looking Winchester.

“I need to talk to him, now.”

“I was here first.  Wait your turn.”

“Fuck no, you’re getting pushy and sexually harassing him-”

“I did no such thing!”

“Grabbing his ass and trying to go for his dick when he clearly didn’t want you to-”

“What make you say he didn’t?”  She narrowed her eyes and whipped around to Charlie and Cas, who were silently watching the scene go down.  “Call your dog off, you’re obviously-”

“Dean is not a dog,” Cas glared, and suddenly turned into that Warrior of God, badass angel.  Even though when he loomed he was sort of tripping over his feet a bit.  Which made him, more or less, Drunkest Angel in the Garrison.

But Dean didn’t need his protection.  No matter how fucking hot it was.

He was about to say as much, but Charlie (bless her soul) intervened and said to Meg, “Hey!  We’re doing a girl’s only shot!  You in?”

“We are?”  Ruby echoed, but the ‘look’ Charlie sent her quickly had her added, “Yeah, duh, we are!”

Meg didn’t admit defeat easily, so her voice was calm and casual, “Don’t go too far, angel.”

“How did you know-”

Dean’s hand was a vice-grip around Castiel’s wrist, pulling him away.  So far away, in fact, they lost sight of the group and headed to the other smaller bar around the corner, on the other side of the club.

“I’m quite confused,” Cas admitted, “There is a lot of hostility and no cause for such-”

Dean shut him up with his mouth.

The angel looked at him, wide-eyed, when Dean pulled away.

He groaned and dropped the grip he had on Cas’ wrist before snapping, “This is the part where you kiss me back, dumbass.”

“Oh.  Right.”

This time, he didn’t pull any punches.

He grabbed fistfuls of Dean’s shirt to haul him close to where there was no space between their bodies.  So what, if the club made them both a little sweaty, Dean was looking to get _much_ sweatier.  Cas was licking into his mouth obscenely, while Dean’s arms snaked around to grab handfuls of the angel’s ass.  This was his, dammit, and he was going to stake his claim-

“Fellas,” a very obvious clear of someone’s throat broken them apart, as one of the wait staff was standing here, hands on his hips.  “Can’t have you doing that in here.  Either keep it in your pants or take it back home.  Ain’t judging, but you’re one second away from indecent exposure.”

“Oh, right.  I apologize.”  Cas was the one to speak for them, because Dean was way too breathless to do so.  “We’ll stop.”

“Like hell we will.”  Dean growled and began manhandling him again towards the exit.  “We’re taking this back home.”

A very uncharacteristic yelp managed to burst from Cas’ chest, but he very gladly let himself be pulled once again.

Dean didn’t stop at the door, he dragged him along the sidewalk and into an alley before spinning Cas around.  He grabbed a handful of messy hair and sucked at the angel’s neck before demanding, “Do you know where I live?”

It took Cas a few tries to say ‘yes,’ and in the end, all he could manage was a nod.

“Zap us there.  Right the fuck now.”

\------------------

Charlie had ‘excused herself’ to the little girl’s room just in time to see the R-rated make out, and a bouncer yell at them.  She was simply thrilled.  While Cas managed to keep it together in front of the man, Dean was completely and utterly _gone_.  So much, in fact, he turned tail and all but sprinted the both of them out of the club.  Surprisingly, they only managed to knock into three people and break a single beer bottle during their escape.  Kudos.

She couldn’t keep the grin off her face when she turned around and headed back to the bar, where the other women were.

“That was fast,” Ruby commented, sipping on her drink.

“Short line.”

“Why do you sound so giddy about a short line?”  Lisa asked, with a raise of her eyebrow.

“Uh, because usually, this is when everyone’s seal’s broken and you almost pee your pants before a stall opens up?  One of those nights you pretend to be the pregger DD who needs to use the potty immediately and all the wastey-faceys believe you.”  She hoped it was a good enough lie.  “Oh, by the way, Cas and Dean realized they were way too drunk and took off.”

Meg and Lisa both looked a combination of annoyed and disappointed.

“Why?  The whole fuckin’ reason is to get ‘too drunk.‘  That’s when the fun begins!”  Ruby was the only one to put her feelings into words.  Probably because she was the only one who didn’t give a shit about their departure.

Although Charlie really, really, wanted to say, ‘oh, the fun is just beginning,’ she settled for, “Dunno.  Got a feeling they were two shots away from alcohol poisoning.”

“Too bad your unicorn left,” Lisa teased Meg with good humor.  “Guess you’re gonna have to find another ride.”

\-----------------------  
  
Cas sure had gone above and beyond with the ‘zapping.’  Not only did they reach Dean’s apartment, they fell right into his bed.  They both kicked their shoes off immediately, Cas uttering a muffled apology, because his lips refused to leave Dean’s.  They were already hot and sweaty and while the cool, crisp air of Dean’s bedroom felt great, it also reminded them that wearing any kind of clothing just wouldn’t do.

The fabric, thrown one right after the other, were damp torpedoes assaulting the ground and the second they were skin to skin, Dean let a very happy groan of accomplishment fill the room.  He could feel Cas smiling while teeth grazed across Dean’s collarbone and needed more.    
  
Right the fuck now.

“Cas,” it was as breathless as it was demanding, as he flipped the angel to his back.  “You need to tell Meg to fuck off.”

“Now?”  His brows furrowed in concern when he looked up.  “But we just left-”

“No, not _now_ , now, idiot.”  Dean extenuated his point with a roll of his bare hips against Cas’.  “Now, you’re gonna fuck me.”  He leaned forward to nip the angel’s earlobe, “And only me.  Your dick is mine.”

Cas tossed his head back as their erections grinded together, but still managed a slightly choked, “It’s always been yours.”

In order to overcome the embarrassment which was threatening to tint his cheeks pink, Dean instead, mouthed at Cas’ throat and whispered, “Well, ain’t you sweet.”

Thankfully, Castiel didn’t pull the, ‘I don’t understand that reference’ card, and instead pushed Dean off him.

They both very ungracefully tumbled to the bed and, after a brief wrestling-while-making-out-match, Dean found himself face down in the mattress, ass up.  

Nothing about it was pretty.  It was raw, the alcohol running through their veins heightening the whole experience, and sensation was overwhelming.  So overwhelming, in fact, that when Cas’ tongue lapped at his hole, he bucked his hips into the touch so eagerly, he nearly knocked the angel over with his ass.

“Sorry, but not,” Dean whined, “C’mon, need more, Cas.  Need you.”

“If you would hold still,” he grumbled, and roughly held Dean’s hips in place, “this would be much easier.”

“You callin’ me easy?”  Dean taunted and wriggled his rear.

The human gasped loudly when two fingers plunged deep inside him.  There had to be some mojo involved there (or maybe he simply was _that_ drunk) because it felt nothing but awesome. Cas’ fingers were stroking him from the inside was making his cock leak with anticipation.  But before he could get desperate and start begging for more, Cas opened his big mouth again.

“No, you’re very difficult.”  While you could still hear the lust in his voice, it was annoyingly even.   
  
Dean got really confused for a second, his brain thoroughly fermenting in alcohol and finally the lightbulb clicked on, that was Cas’ response to ‘if he was easy.’  Oh yeah, drunk sex and thinking just wasn’t his forte.  Especially when Cas’ fingers were fucking into him like _this_.  
  
“Do you have any idea how bad I’ve wanted this?”  A third finger twisted inside, past Dean’s tight rim.  “How I’d give anything for you?”

The words were spilling out of Cas’ mouth like the floodgate had opened up.  Between the pillow Dean’s face was stuffed with, and the perfect stretching sensation, he couldn’t do much to respond.  But his body sure did.  He felt like a goddamn whore, all mewling need and grinding hips, begging for more.

Cas added a fourth finger and ducked his head to nip at the sensitive skin of Dean’s inner thigh.

“I can never get enough of you like this, Dean.”

And right there, that was the break in the angel’s voice Dean needed.

“Godammit, Cas!  Then do something about it!”

And do something about it, he sure as fuck did.  The same time he pulled his fingers out, he shoved the human onto his back and pushed Dean’s legs wide open.  Dean could swear he felt the booze slosh through his cranium, but he couldn’t concentrate on that anyway, because Cas was somehow slicked up and pushing inside him.

Dean’s back arched off the bed when Cas grabbed his hips and desperately pulled him even closer.  Dean couldn’t help but shout out, because he hadn’t felt all of that huge cock, this deep inside him for years.

The fuck in the ‘woods’ was sloppy, gritty and quick.

Now, Cas wasn’t walking on eggshells and letting Dean take the lead.  The angel didn’t hesitate to use all his strength.  This was exactly how they used to fuck.  Cas taking control, pushing Dean to his limit and both loving every second of it.

Speaking of strength, while Cas held him firmly in place, buried deep in his ass, he grabbed the back of Dean’s neck and hauled him up for a kiss.  Their teeth clashed in a rough but perfect way and Cas pitched forward when he let Dean down and followed his mouth.  He sucked at his lips, drawing out the most beautiful sounds while he began moving in and out of him.

The pace wasn’t quick, it was just right to slam into Dean’s body, just as deep, with every thrust.  He felt everything, Dean was hypersensitive, and after all this time, Cas still knew _just_ where to aim his thrusts.  And as soon as he found it, he was brutal.  He didn’t let up, but didn’t wrap his hand around Dean’s cock.

Because the motherfucker knew he didn’t need to.

Whenever Cas fucked him like this, all Dean needed was that thick cock, filling and stretching him in the best fucking way while pounding his sweet spot.

He was all pent-up, Dean had been wanting this every fucking day since he’d seen the angel again.  Their quickie had nothing on this.  Cas’ mouth was hot and hungry over his neck, he never faltered - the perfect brutality never weakened as he fucked into Dean’s hole.

Dean grabbed two fistfuls of dark hair and brought their mouths together again, because as sappy as it sounded, he wanted those desperate kisses when he came.  The angel tossed his head back when Dean’s body clenched around him, spilling cum over both their bodies and didn’t stop.  Cas’ teeth found Dean’s neck and clamped down when he blew his load inside the human, balancing that line between a little bit of pain, but all pleasure.

Dean wasn’t sure what the angel was going to do next.  Because it sure as fuck seemed like he couldn’t comprehend the concept that Dean wanted him.

So before there was any question, before Cas looked at him all apologetically meek and he fluttered off somewhere, Dean’s arms reached out.  They grappled for him and once Cas pulled out, gravity did the rest.  He happily found himself on Dean’s chest, wrapped in his arms.

Once he caught his breath, Dean ordered him very sternly, “Yer not going anywhere.”

“Shouldn’t we clean up?”  Cas asked cautiously.

“You’re the angel.  Whammy us clean.”  He stated like it was obvious and pressed a kiss against Cas’ sweaty brow.  “Jesus, this hangover is gonna destroy me tomorrow.”

At that thought, Cas’ heart skipped a beat.  “Was this…?  Because you were drunk?”

While Dean knew for a fact it wasn’t.  He wasn’t going to tell me angel he’d been dreaming about it.  That he wanted it with every molecule of his being, because… even though he knew these things, he wasn’t going to know what he’d feel sober.  So in order to cover all his bases, he shrugged.

“Guess we’ll see in the morning.”

Cas let out a sigh of defeat and he began to worry.

Knowing exactly what he was doing, Dean clapped him on the cheek twice and stated, “I want you here.  With me.  Ain’t no question in my mind, all right?  If you leave and get emo, Imma kick your ass.  Just, uh, baby steps.  Or whatever.”

“This was _hardly_ a baby step, Dean-”

“Hush your face.  G’night, Cas.  Love you.”

He hadn’t meant to say it, but it came so casually.  So _naturally_.  He felt the angel tense up on his chest, but didn’t say anything because he was probably too deer-in-the-headlights.  So Dean didn’t care.  In this moment, right here?  It felt like before any of that shit happened.   He really did love Cas (he wasn’t going to tell him he never stopped) but for right now, he had no problem pretending this was a few years ago and it was just another night of falling asleep together.

‘Cause it was perfect.  And he wasn’t going to deny himself that.


	4. The Higher the Hair - The Closer to God

No matter how disappointing it was to wake up alone, Dean should have expected it.  He also expected one hell of a hangover, but apparently Cas took it upon himself to work some magic and save Dean from bouts of puking.  Which he appreciated, really.  But he would have appreciated waking up next to the angel a little bit more.

Great - he woke up on the emo side of the bed, apparently, because this just drug up old memories and the reason for break-up in the first place.

Cas leaving.

Whatever.  If he avoided that mother of a hangover that meant he could get shit done today.  Unfortunately, he was kind of banking on a hangover as an excuse to avoid cleaning his apartment.  Now?  He had no reason to put it off until the next day.  But he was hungry as hell.

So breakfast was most definitely coming first.

He needed to get his strength up for the inevitable interrogation from Charlie about randomly leaving alongside Cas.  She was like a dog with a bone, and hopefully she hadn’t escaped the downside of drinking last night.  Maybe that would keep her from calling, at least?  
  
Hopefully, Cas wasn’t playing Santa to all the good little boys and girls and giving them the Christmas gift of hangoverless mornings.  
  
After all, it wasn’t even ‘Christmas in July’ time.

He could cross his fingers and hope.

\-----------

Their weekend came and went, and before he knew it Tuesday was upon him.

For the first time, like, ever, Dean eyed his wardrobe with a little more scrutiny than he normally would.  It wasn’t as though he was trying to impress Cas or anything.  He found it strange(ly disappointing) the angel didn’t get in contact with him Sunday or Monday.

It’s not like they kept in contact over their off-days or anything.  So really, there was no reason for Dean to question it.  That didn’t mean that he liked it.

When he told Cas “we’ll see in the morning,” in regards to whether or not they only had sex because they were drunk, he meant it to tease.  The angel knew how to read him, so he should have known it was a joke.  But in retrospect, Cas was just as drunk as he was and may not have picked up on the little tells he normally would.

Dean grumbled to himself as he reached out and snatched up one of his nicer flannels as well as a pair of jeans that made his ass look great.  And no, there was no reason behind that.  Nope.  Notta one.

When he drove to the salon, he tried to figure out how to approach this.

Would he _need_ to approach it?  Would Cas act like it never happened?  Was Dean supposed to pretend like it never happened?  There were way too many questions on loop in his mind, that when he parked, he jumped when Jo knocked on his window.

“Fuck!  Why did you do that?!”  He demanded, when he swung the door open and glared at her.

“You looked like you were using your brain,” she snickered.  “And I know from personal experience that is gonna hurt you.  Thought I’d save you from yourself.”

“Hah-hah,” he groaned sarcastically and reached into the passenger seat to grab his work bag.  “Why are you so cheery this morning?”

She shrugged her shoulders and skipped ahead, “Maybe because you’ve got a giant-ass hickey on the side of your neck and everyone’s gonna tease you about it.”

Without thinking, Dean’s hand shot up and clamped over the skin.

“Have a good weekend?”  Her voice was nothing but mischief wrapped in a sugary coating.

“I guess.  Can’t remember much,” Dean laughed, lying through his teeth.  “Musta been awesome.”

“Only you, Winchester.”

“You’re just jealous I’m getting action and you’re not, Joanna Beth.”

They continued teasing each other as they walked into the salon, which was a great distraction for Dean because he didn’t miss Cas at the front desk.  However, he was buried deep in something, writing away at a notebook and flipping through a stack of papers.  It was kind of disappointing he didn’t greet him, he was hoping whatever Cas’ reaction to all of his was would give him a path to go down.

But, nope.  He was doing his job.

Lame.

Jo was still chatting with him on his way to his station, telling him he was going to be extremely excited when she announced tomorrow’s theme day.  Which only meant trouble.  Right before he turned the corner, he felt Cas’ eyes flicker up to him, but he knew it would be suspicious if he whipped back around to talk with the man.

“When announcing tomorrow’s ‘theme,’ why do you always wait ‘til the last minute, anyway?”

“Element of surprise,” she had a Cheshire-like smirk on her face as she put her hands on her hips.  “Plus, then - there’s no time to bitch at me and try to get me to change my mind.  I’m strategic like that.”

“You’re a jerk like that, you mean.”

Jo leaned forward and ruffled his hair, “You better thank me.  Even though you’ve got these raving fans, I did you a favor and booked you all haircuts today.”

Dean didn’t even admonish her for fucking with his hair, he was too surprised by her statement.  “Do you want something?  Why are you being so nice to me?”

“What?  I can’t cut you a break?  I’m a fuckin’ awesome boss, all right!”  She huffed out and then looked at the clock.  “Unless you plan on flaunting that vamp wound, I’d beg Abby to slap some makeup and cover it up.  We’ve got ten minutes ‘til open.”

Forgetting all about the pros of being at a salon, Dean lit up, “Oh, dude.  You’re right.  Is she already here?”

“Yep.  Back in the spa, setting up.”

“Good deal.”  Dean set down his things and headed straight for the spa area.

As much as he hated the thought of wearing makeup, he also hated the thought of his coworkers freaking out about his neck.  And by freak out, he meant torment, teasing, and generally ruining his life.  So, yeah, he’d take groveling to Abbadon any day.

When he crossed through the lobby, Cas was finally looking up and their eyes locked for two seconds.  Dean felt a little bad, bolting to the spa, but this was something time-sensitive.

He could talk to Cas later.

\------------

“What do we have here?”  Abby grinned when Dean appeared by station in the spa room.  “Little Winchester needs a favor from moi?”

“C’mon, it was orders from Jo.  Can you cover it or not?”

She threw her head back and laughed, “Who do you think I am?”

Dean wasn’t sure if that was a yes or a no, so he stared at her until he knew she was uncomfortable.

“Sit down, fucker.  Your brain’s clearly not working today.  Looks like someone sucked it out through your neck,” she jeered her thumb to the chair next to the makeup tower.

“What’s your price?”

“I don’t need your money,” she commented coolly as she found a concealer that matched Dean’s skin tone.  “Only your soul.”

“Oh,” Dean snorted through his nose, “Is that all?”

“Just a favor to call in someday.”

“A favor?  What do you need from me?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I literally hate this idea.”

Before she commented something, which he knew would be sarcastic, back, Cas popped his head into the back room and announced, “Your first client cancelled, Dean.”

And before he could thank him, or say no prob, he disappeared just as quickly.

Huh.  That was weird.

\--------------

The day went on without a hitch, which was both good and bad.  Haircuts were smooth - from start to finish, and no one had a chance to ask him about Saturday night because they were all busy.  Still, it also meant, he didn’t have a chance to talk to Cas, yet.

The angel’s indifference was bothering him.

Did he think that was a mistake?  Hell no, Cas wasn’t allowed to think that, because it was him who went to all this trouble to pursue Dean in the first place!  So what the hell was up?  Did he think Dean was ashamed of it?

He went out of his way to smile at Cas, even though they couldn’t talk, but everything was… stilted?  And he hated it.

It was also frustrating that Cas decided to take his ‘lunch’ when Dean was with a client.  The fucking angel could have taken it at _anytime_ (he could have chosen to take it with _Dean_ ), but he deliberately did it when Dean was busy.  What the actual fuck.

Still, he had to put a good face forward for the client and he had to hand it to Abby, the makeup on his neck didn’t show signs of budging.  He’d have to ice it or something when he went home, because it was a couple days from fading and he didn’t want to have to go into work early every day for the devilish-woman’s skills.  Maybe he could ask Charlie if she had some kind of makeup he could use before work?  Because, God knows, he wasn’t buying some of his own.

When he finally did take his lunch break, Jo grabbed his hand with a huge smile and said, “Go tell Madison her next client is here.”

“Wha?”  Dean blinked at her.  “One, it’s my lunch.  Two, don’t you hire people to do that?!”

“Trust me,” Jo was cryptic and impish when he said it.  “You’ll want to.”

With a roll of his eyes, another smile to Cas (who was still motionless and silent from the front desk) he walked into the spa for the second time that day.

“Mads, your client is-”  Then his eyes bugged out of his head, “The fuck are you doing here?!”

“Dean,” Hannah whipped around from the pedicure she was working on to glare at him, “Language!”

A gruff, and defeated, “ _Balls_ ,” came from the man in the chair, “Jo didn’t tell me _you_ worked here too, idjit!”

Yeah, Dean was downright giddy as he strolled right up to Bobby and hopped into the vacant chair next to him.  “Guilty pleasure, old man?”  He asked with a smile that was big enough to tear his face in half.

“Shut it!”  He snapped and adjusted the trucker hat on his head.  “Don’t act like you’re so surprised!  Remember that-” he stopped abruptly when he realized they weren’t allowed to talk ‘cases’ here.

So Dean finished for him, “Heart-to-heart night of ‘truth or truth?’  Yeah, I gotcha.  I didn’t know this was a regular thing.”

“It isn’t!”  Bobby defended indignantly, in the process kicking water out of the tub and onto a miffed-looking Hannah.  “Sorry, sorry.  This boy right here brings out the worst in me.  Can’t believe ya’ll would hire his dumbass.”

Hannah silently went back to her work, filing his nails and pushing back the cuticles.

Dean looked pleased as punch.  “So, if this isn’t common, why’re you here?”

“Visit to the Roadhouse.  Ellen told me I could come down here for a treat.  And, uh, Jo wanted my help on a case.”

“A case?”  He repeated with a frown, “Usually Jo keeps me up to date with the, uh, family business stuff.”

“It’s,” he glanced down at Hannah, who was thoroughly immersed in her work.  “Uh, kinda hush-hush.  Maybe we can talk about it later?”

“We better, if it’s something that brought you out here.   The Bobby I know’s happy working the phones these days,” he commented offhand.  “Yeah, well.  Let’s meet up for a beer, or something?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’ll letcha get back to your pampering.”  Dean couldn’t help but let an uncontrollable laughing fit overwhelm him.  “You still got the same number?”

“Yeah.  But if you don’t shut your fool mouth right now, I ain’t answerin’ ya.  Ever again.”

“Sorry, sorry.”  He didn’t mean a word of it.

This was going to haunt Bobby for the rest of his life, if Dean had anything to do with it.

When he got up off the pedicure throne, he noticed Cas in the doorway with a look of questioning on his face.  Both of them hesitated before Dean finally said, “Hey?  Can I talk to you?”  He looked around and said, “Bela said she’s out of massage lotion, I looked in the back but-”

“Yes.  I’ll help look.”  Cas said almost too eagerly.

Dean tried to ignore Bobby’s questioning glance as the two men walked down the hallway of the spa and turned the corner to the supply room.

The door was instantly slammed shut.  With Dean’s back.  He was shoved up against it with an aggressive angel kissing the fuck out of him.  Not that he minded in the least.  He let the make-out go for as long as humanly possible before an erection ruined it.  

He pushed Cas away, breathless, and even more frustrated.

“Dean?”  He asked with wide eyes.

“Sorry, just gotta, uh, not have a boner at work,” he playfully smacked the angel’s arm and asked, “We’re good?  I thought you were avoiding me all morning or something.”

“I had to,” he stated as though it were obvious, “or else I’d be much too tempted to do this,” he gestured around to the supply room.  “You look very appealing today, Dean.”

“Shucks.”  He teasingly trailed two fingers up the length of the angel’s neck, hooked him under the chin and pulled them together for one chaste kiss.  “You say the sweetest things.”

His answer was a goofy smile and a nod.  “I was concerned there may be some ‘awkwardness.’”

“Only thing that’s awkward is your air quotes,” Dean swatted at his hands.  “You shoulda taken your lunch break with me.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow in challenge, “You wouldn’t have been able to use it for lunch, you know.”

“That’s a sacrifice I’d be willing to make.”  Dean couldn’t help but reach out and tug on Cas’ belt loops.  “Maybe next time.”

“I sincerely hope so,” Cas leaned forward for one more kiss.  “We’re, um, not really out of massage lotion, are we?  I can put in an order-”

“No, dummy.  That was me trying to get you alone.  We’re fine,” with a pat on the back, he finished, “C’mon.  Don’t want this to look suspicious.  And plus, I really do gotta eat.”

“Of course, Dean.”  There was a content smile on his face.

When they walked out, both men hoped it looked casual and not as though they’d just tried to devour each other in the supply room.  There weren’t many people to fool, though.  Hannah was oblivious, to a fault.  Bela wasn’t there.  And Madison really did have a client.  

Bobby, though.  

Bobby gave him a questioning look.

However, Dean shrugged it off because his stomach was growling and he needed food, like, yesterday.  He announced in the lobby he was headed out to eat, to which Jo nodded, Charlie asked to pick her up from fries and Cas?  Cas still had that dumb-happy look on his face.

Although, Dean was pretty sure he had that dumb-happy look, too.

\-----------

Bobby was kicked back in the chair at the end of the pedicure service, while Hannah was in the back cleaning up.  Madison was on her lunch break and Abby was done for the day.  That didn’t stop Jo from looking around suspiciously and carefully, approaching the other hunter.  She took the seat alongside him and leaned in.

“So.  What do you think?”

Bobby mirrored her posture and nodded, “’Though I couldn’t pull any of the tests while in here, I think you and yer huntin’ pal’s right.”

“All right,” she exhaled a pent-up breath.  “Wanted to make sure I wasn’t crazy.”

“Nah, yer not.  Once a hunter, always a hunter.  Or, _daughter_ of a hunter.  You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.  So, what’s our next move?”

“You know the lore.  Just gotta make sure we catch ‘em when he’s not here, and don‘ comprise the salon.”

“That’s the problem,” Jo ran a hand through her blonde hair with frustration.  “When he’s not here, he’s… gone.  Without a trace.  I checked out the address he gave us when he started, even staked it out.  He’s never there.  I don’t know when we _can_ do this.”

“Maybe you can hold ‘em after hours for a meetin’ one night?  Play it off real casual and I’ll be in here with the other hunter, waiting?”

“Think that’s the only way,” Jo confirmed with a nod.  “Succubus’ are sneaky.”

“Or rather, an _incubus_ ,” Bobby grumbled the correction.  “We’ll get ‘em kid.  We gotta do it soon, don’t want him to suck Dean dry.”

“Ew.”

“You know I didn’t mean that, git yer head outta the gutter!”  He huffed and crossed his arms.  “Tell me if it looks like he’s goin’ downhill, otherwise we’ll plan on Sunday.”

“All right.  Keep in touch,” she kissed him on the cheek, which caused Bobby to blush, then left him to enjoy the last five minutes of his appointment time.

\-----------

There were no other chances to shove Cas into a closet for another make out before the end of the work day.  That didn’t mean he wasn’t pleasantly buzzing with happiness.  They spoke once more, and as hard as Dean begged him to come over that night, the angel shook his head because ‘it’s better to start off slow again.  We don’t want to overwhelm this.’  So Dean begrudgingly accepted (mostly because he knew the angel was damn serious about doing this right), and said he’d see him tomorrow with a lingering goodbye kiss.

When Dean got home, he contemplated praying to the angel because, let’s face it, he was still super fucking turned on from their ‘illicit office romance encounter.’

He understood Castiel’s reasoning, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pout.

Dean decided to veg out on the couch and flip through the channels when his phone lit up.

It was a group text, about tomorrow’s ‘theme day.’

Jo wasn’t fucking around.  It was kind of awesome, and he couldn’t keep the goofy grin off his face.  This was all sorts of hilarious, given their previous line of work, which is why Jo probably assumed Dean would be enthralled with it.  But nope.  There was a totally different reason.

Because his boyfriend (or whatever they were) was a Heavenly Being.

And the theme?

Angels and Demons.

\----------------------

Best thing about the salon was on theme days everyone went all-out.  Most of the women had a collection of old Halloween costumes at home, and when he sent Charlie an SOS, she informed him that she did, indeed, have a pair of devil horns and a tail with his name on ‘em.

What Dean didn’t know, was the fact Cas had sent the same SOS.

Charlie and Cas didn’t do things half-assed.  Now that they were ‘BFFs,’ the text had spurred an impromptu bonding experience and Dean knew this was Charlie’s work the second he stepped into the salon.

So what, if his mouth went dry?  Or maybe he was salivating?  Who knew, but something was happening with his body and he hoped it wasn’t another boner.

Cas was doing the same thing he was doing every morning: running through the schedule, scribbling away in a notebook, and calling clients to confirm their appointments.

The only difference?

He was in a _deliciously_ tight white pair of skinny jeans, with a light blue button-up (top two un-buttoned, of course) completed with a white vest.

And those tacky Halloween angel wings.

But to Dean that was nothing in the grand scheme of things with the way Cas looked right now.

“Close your mouth,” Charlie snapped, as she came up from behind him and stuck the headband, complete with horns, on him.  “You’re gonna catch flies.”

She had a safety pin open and ready to tack on his tail to his all black wardrobe.  Except, he didn’t really trust her with it so he snatched it up himself.

“Did you play personal stylist to the angel,” he hissed a whisper to her.  Before she could even nod, he blurted, “Holy fuckin’ thank you.”

“Knew you’d like it,” she winked, and it was only now he noticed she was probably the only other ’angel’ in the salon today.

She was wearing a white pair of ballet flats, a cute chiffon white dress, and had probably taken the halo part of Cas’ ensemble.  He didn’t care.  Cas was fucking perfect.  So perfect, in fact, he couldn’t help but walk right up to him the second he hung up the phone and offer forth his tail.

“Pin me?”  He winked, and Cas gave him the once over, and his grin told Dean that he liked what he saw.  “Cas.  My tail.”

“O-oh, right.”

And while it took him a couple tries, Dean knew it was because Castiel was too busy looking at his ass.  He patted internally himself on the shoulder for a job well done.

Charlie had been the one to tell him to get to work early, so she could give him the props.  So Dean didn’t feel bad about hanging out next to Cas at the front desk.  No one was present besides themselves and Charlie.

When Jo walked in, she looked between Dean and Cas warily, but Dean called over to her and teased, “I forgot my black contacts at home, so my demon outfit isn’t quite up to snuff, I know.”

Jo did a twirl in a cute black dress with red heels and horns of her own, “I’m not pushing for authenticity,” she winked.  “But killer theme, right?”

“For sure.”  He couldn’t help but steal an appreciative glance at Cas again, “ _Very_ awesome theme, indeed.”

Charlie was on the other side of him and smacked him again, “Are you going to be distracted all day?  Maybe we should have gotten him a white robe and called it good.”

“No.  No, I’ll behave,” Dean immediately interjected, “Besides, clients’ll appreciate it.”

Cas rolled his eyes heavily, but continued doing his job.

Jo went into the back, and Dean asked over to Charlie, “Is it just me, or is she being weird?”

“Maybe a little,” the redhead shrugged and pointed at the door.  “Maybe she’s worried about things like that.”

When Bela, Ruby and Meg strutted in, it was a mess of fishnets, stilettos and red lips.  This was exactly what Dean had been expecting.  Any chance to show off a little skin, these women took eagerly.  And today, they took it all.  And when Meg made the move to Cas instead of her station, Dean’s heckles rose.

She hadn’t worked the previous day.  Which meant she hadn’t seen him or talked to him (to the best of Dean’s knowledge) since the ‘cat fiasco’ of Saturday night.

Meg leaned over the desk, exposing an obscene amount of cleavage to Cas, who simply looked up and said, “Hello, Meg.”

“I knew I called you Clarence for a reason, you’re the sexiest angel I’ve even seen,” she was going a little over the top with the flirting, if Dean did say so himself.

Charlie thought so, too, as she sent him a look.

“Have you bore witness to many angels?”  Cas tilted his head to the side, genuinely curious.

“Why would I need to, when I have you right in front of me?”

“Go set up, Meg,” Dean couldn’t help his words until they left his mouth.

“Who made you boss?”  She snapped right back.

“You have an early client, I believe, is what Dean means,” Cas tried to smooth over the situation, because Dean really hadn’t mean to get all territorial on him.  “And thank you for your kind words.”

Yeah, it still pissed Dean off that, after everything, Cas was still friendly with her and genuinely liked her.  But then, Dean had to remember he used to like her too.  Until she decided to get up close and personal with Castiel.  He needed to reign this in, but it was hard, okay?!  Especially with Cas looking like this.  They were definitely going to have to line-up their lunch hours today…

“We should set up, too, Dean,” Charlie tugged on his sleeve, and he begrudgingly went.

He guessed he had a job to do… or whatever...

\--------------

They managed a total of three stolen kisses and one over-too-soon romp in the back seat of Dean’s shitty-ass car.  Cas questioned what happened to the Impala, and Dean told him the story with all the heartache of losing a child.  It was great though, because Cas understood the severity of the situation.  It had never felt better to have a piece of his old life mix in with his new life.  He didn’t think he could be this happy.

Which was why, on his lunch break when Cas went back to work and Dean really did need to go grab a sandwich, he called his brother.

“Hey, Dean.  What’s going on.  I was just about to call you.”

“Not a lot.  Salon from Hell’s theme is literally Hell.  Well, Angels and Demons, I thought you’d find that ironic.”  He chuckled and then asked with a little bit of concern, “What were you gonna call me about?”

“Bobby hit me up the other day, and he was asking some really weird questions.  Are you all right?”

“Yeah, actually I am.  What kind of weird questions?”  This piqued Dean’s interest, because he had just saw the man yesterday, so when had he called Sam?

“Just how you’ve been doing.  If the job’s treating you well, not tiring you out too bad.  I guess they’re working a case.”

“Yeah, I saw Bobby yesterday, but he didn’t tell me the details.”

“Huh,” Sam paused to think, “I didn’t get any details either.  I guess keep your eyes open?  Hopefully it’s something simple around town, but I do know it’s in your area.  Keep your head down, all right, you don’t want any Feds strolling in with questions, you know?”

“I got it, Sam, I’m a big boy,” he chuckled.  “Damn, I wish they’d tell me.  It’s been awhile since I’ve been on a hunt.”

“It’s been a long time for both of us,” Sam agreed, and then a teasing quality reared its head.  “You sound happy.  Like… really happy.  What’s up with that?”

“Can’t a dude enjoy his life?!”

“No.”  Sam already had an inkling, but he tried to play it smooth.  “Cas hasn’t been by interrogating me about you.”

“Oh, shit.  Did I mention he’s working at the shop?”

“The salon?!”  Sam’s voice raised an octave.  “No.  You did not inform me that Castiel, Angel of the Lord, was working at a goddamn _salon_!”

“Hey, I work there, why is it so surprising he works here, too?!  Is he too good for it, but I’m not?”  Dean knew he was pouting, but he didn’t care.  “And, as a correction, he’s no longer the Angel of Thursday, but the Angel of _Reception_.”

“Holy fuckin’ downgrade.  You don’t seem upset he’s working there,” Sam’s voice held the tone of revelation.  “You guys worked it out!”

“Kinda hard not to when he’s in my face everyday.”

“That’s why you’re so damn happy.”

“Why do you sound like an excited puppy?”

“’Cause it’s about time.  That’s all I’m saying.  Oh, hey!”  Sam realized one more thing, “Maybe you really should ask Bobby about the case.  Cas can sure as hell help, if backup’s needed.”

“But then I’d have to tell them he’s an angel.  I don’t know how they’d react to it, considering it took me how long to be all right with that fact?”

“Yeah, I get your point.  Maybe if you told him Cas’ a hunter too?  You know, just in case shit hits the fan,” he could hear the shrug in Sam’s voice.  “Whatever it is, like I said, you guys should probably get it out of the way before it draws any unnecessary attention.  You really do sound happy, Dean.  What you got going there is good for you - it’d suck if you had to pack up and relocate.”

“I know, I know.  All right, I’ll letcha know if anything comes of this ‘case,’ yeah?”

“For sure.  It was good to hear from you, Dean.  Next time a huge event, like an angel fluttering down to a salon happens, call me sooner?”

“I ain’t letting any angel but my angel in this building, so you don’t have to worry ‘bout that.”

“ _Your_ angel,” Sam repeated.  “I fucking _knew_ it!  I-”

Dean promptly hung up the phone, blushing furiously.  He knew Sam knew.  He just didn’t want to know from Sam that Sam knew.  Or whatever.  Shit was complicated.  At least, for the first time, right here and now?  Not complicated at all.

Although, he should call Bobby up, sooner rather than later.

\-------------------

Maybe it was a cheat.

No, it was most definitely a cheat.

Dean was in the color room by himself, mixing up for yet another client’s (easy, thank God) formula, when he took advantage of Angel Radio.

In a flash, Cas was in the room with him demanding, “What’s wrong, Dean?”

“You,” he took very deliberate steps towards the flustered angel, after setting the bowl down, “are going home with me tonight.”  He took Cas’ earlobe into his mouth and sucked.  When he pulled away, he whispered, “This is not up for discussion.  I’m already planning all the things I’m going to do with you-”

Apparently, the minor seduction worked, because Cas was forcing him back into a corner in no time, boxing him in with his arms and nipping at his neck, “It’ll be nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you.”

Dean felt his knees threaten to buckle from the sinfully deep words and grabbed Cas’ hips for stability, “Damn, Cas,” and sealed their mouths together.

The angel hauled Dean up onto the table next to the wall and kissed him for all he was worth.  The way Cas worked that mouth - _goddamn_ \- he couldn’t be held accountable for the moan that escaped his lips.  He wished it was the end of the day, wished that he could rip these clothes from the angel and go to town.  It was wet, sloppy, and desperate.  Fucking absolutely perfect until-

“ _Dudes_!  What the fuck!”

They pushed away from each other to notice Ruby in the doorway with her mouth open, “Can’t you wait until we’re, I don’t know, not at work?  Jesus, fuckin’ hornballs,” she whipped around and exited as quickly as she entered.

“Shit-” Dean cursed under his breath and made a move to chase after her, before Cas grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t worry, Dean.  I’ll talk to her.  You have a client and you’ve already been distracted for too long.”  Cas’ words were even and professional, but the way he raked his fingertips over the obvious bulge tenting Dean’s tight pants was not.  “Yes.  Meeting tonight is agreeable.”

With a huff of laughter, he watched Cas escape after Ruby from the color room.  God, why did he do this to himself?  He only meant to ruffle Cas and now he was the one with a problem.  A big, hard, obvious problem.

Never again…

\----------------

It didn’t take much guess work to find Ruby outside with a cigarette and a scowl on her face.  He approached apologetically, before she cut him off.

“Dude.  I already know what you’re going to say, so leave it.  I’ll keep your dirty little secret.  Just don’t burn my virgin eyes again, fuckin’ keep it in your pants!”  She groaned and flicked some ashes to the ground.  “So, Dean was keeping you guys secret when he was bitching about you?”

“I-” Cas wasn’t quite sure what to say.  “We had our differences.  We worked them out.”

“Oh yeah, I can tell,” she winked then shooed him, “Get back in there.  Do what you’re paid for.”

Castiel gave her a genuine smile and returned inside.

While Ruby sucked down the rest of the stick, she sent a text message.  Then, she lit up one more cig.

In no time at all, Jo was rounding the corner and demanding, “You said you’ve got proof?”

“Yep,” she took a deep inhale before turning her head to make sure she didn’t blow smoke in Jo’s face.  “Fuckin’ incubus’ got balls.  He was feeding on Dean in the goddamn color room, just like we thought.  Just didn’t think it’d be at work.”

Jo looked defeated as she sighed heavily and leaned against the wall.  “We gotta do this now.  Like, _tonight_.  I’ll give Bobby a call.  You got the weapon?”

“Same jazz as a siren, right?  Bronze dagger coated in it’s own venom?”  She tilted her head to the side, waiting for confirmation.

“You got it.  Just gotta ’fake’ a little accident with Dean and we should be good to go.”

“Leave the accident to me,” Ruby smiled as she flicked her cigarette.  “Too bad we didn’t see this sooner.  Dean is so far gone, it’s disgusting.  And you said he was a hunter?”

“Hey, anyone can fall prey to these guys.  It’s what they do, okay?”

“No need to get defensive!”  She raised her palms in front of her.  “Just asking a question.  Can‘t blame him, Cas sure is easy on the eyes.”

“Whatever.  Let’s get to work.”

\------------------

Dean’s eyes kept flickering back between his client and the clock.  As soon as he was done with this trim, he was home free.  And by home free, he meant hopefully Cas’ dick would be in his ass in little under an hour.

He was putting the finishing touches on a haircut when something, or _someone_ , collided into him and he slipped, shears cutting right into the meat of his knuckle.

“Goddammit!”  He cursed and put the blades down, before he whipped around.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”  Ruby yelped, her arms full of laundry, “I can’t see over these damn towels, are you all right?”

“I’ll be right back,” he told the client through gritted teeth, because he needed to wrap this thing right the fuck now.

It’s not like it hurt - he’d been shot, sliced into, mauled by Hell Hounds, not to mention all the pain in Hell, but knuckles?  Were _bleeders_.  And he knew the client wouldn’t appreciate a nice, red glaze over the top of their hair.

He rushed to the front desk, where Cas crowding over to him immediately and grabbed his hand.

“No,” Dean had to hiss under his breath, “Ruby saw the cut, you can’t heal it, it’ll be suspicious.  Just get me a band-aid, we’ll do this the old fashion way, kay?”

“In that case, we’ll need some kind of disinfectant, as well.”

“All right, mom,” Dean rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the little bit of affection in his voice.

Cas marched him over to the sink, arms packed full of hydrogen peroxide, Neosporin, gauze and a band-aid, simply because Dean requested it.  While he was attending to Dean’s cut, and running it under water, Ruby turned the corner.  “Seriously, I feel like a huge asshole, do you want me to finish that trim?  I can get that done and check her out for the night.”

Dean didn’t blame her at all, he’d been on towel duty and those really were sky-high towers of distractions.  He knew Ruby had the same training as he did, she simply wanted to focus on the spa side of cosmetology so he nodded.  “That’d be great.  Tell her I’m sorry.”

“Something tells me she’s not gonna be pissed you sliced your finger open,” she teased.  “Take good care of him, Cas!”

There was a bit of bitching and moaning between the two men when Ruby turned the corner.  She looked down to the shears which had blood on them, wiped the red off with a piece of cloth she had all ready for stowing and jammed it into a plastic baggy already in her pocket.  She introduced herself to the client, grabbed some alcohol to spray down the tools, and grabbed the extra pair of shears she knew Dean stored two drawers down in his caddie.

Getting the ‘venom filled’ blood, was a piece of cake.

\------------------

“When we get home, I’m healing this for you, just a little,” Cas hissed into Dean’s ear while he doused it in hydrogen peroxide.  “You need stitches.”

“What’s a little dental floor and a needle, right?”  He winked, which made Cas dry the wound and attack it with ointment without an ounce of gentleness.

“We will.  Tonight.”  Then he lowered his voice even deeper, “You’ll need use of your hand, after all.”

“Oh, yeah?”  Dean waggled his eyebrows as Cas slapped down the bandage, and wrapped it in gauze.

“Yes.”  He confirmed with a smirk tugging the corner of his lips.  “Now, don’t be a terrible patient.”

“Can we play doctor?”

“Must you be so inappropriate?”

“What can I say, it’s a talent.”

“Castiel?”  Jo’s voice seized their attention and they both turned around.  “Can you stay a little later tonight?  I’ve gotta talk to you about your schedule.”

“It’s not a problem at all, Joanna.”  He transitioned smoothly into his ‘professional voice,’ and smiled at her.

“Great!  I’ll be around.”  Before she left, she spared a glance at Dean, “Dude, what’d you do to your finger?”

“You know.  Decided to trim the whole goddamn knuckle off.  I don’t need that, anyway.”

“No need to get lippy!”  She snapped right back at him.

“Woah, calm down,” Dean was left blinking by the intensity of her words.  “I’m just joking.  Deep breaths, Harvelle.”

“Sorry, just.  Stress.  You know how it goes.”  She sounded remorseful right away.  “You can pack up and head home, Dean.  Don’t worry about cleaning up tonight.”

“I’m not that tender, I can -”

She raised an eyebrow, “When I say you can leave early, just do it.  Take advantage of the fact you’re a delicate flower.”

“Whatever,” he chuckled, “Thanks, boss.”

“You’ll thank me later!”

\---------

By the time Cas deemed Dean well enough to go home (so maybe he did let the angel work some magic under the wrap-job, because he really nicked himself good) he lingered a little longer because he was looking forward to going home with Cas.  It sucked Jo wanted to drag him into a meeting, but he understood.  He just didn’t know _why_ she was doing it when Becky wasn’t even working.

Maybe Becky had requested some days off Jo needed Cas to pick up?

Even though Dean would have no problem waiting for him, Jo did kind of make it explicit that he should go home early, and get to the ER if he needed it.  And he couldn’t exactly go against Jo’s orders.  It would have been suspicious.  Hopefully, Ruby didn’t blab and Cas didn’t get in trouble.  Dean was finally accepting (and secretly loving) the fact Cas was his coworker.

So he shot Cas a smile, said goodnight to two girls left, and grabbed his bag.  When he pulled on his jacket and grabbed his keys, he mourned the fact Cas wasn’t riding back with him.  Oh well, he’d see him soon enough.


	5. Running With Scissors

Cas was waiting patiently for Jo to finish up with her chores for the day.  As patiently as he could.  Considering he had a very ready and willing (desperate) Winchester waiting at home for him.

Jo was counting the register when she told Cas, “Go ahead and wait for me in the break room.  I’ll be there in five.”

He nodded a confirmation, and took his leave.

Waiting in the break room was no different than waiting in the lobby.  Except for the fact that he could sit down here.    
  
His thoughts were still about Dean.  Then again, they rarely weren’t.  If it wasn’t ‘how can I help Dean,’ or ‘what can I do to make Dean happy,’ it was _definitely_ , ‘how should I fuck Dean tonight.’  Cas shifted awkwardly before something stirred in his pants.  He needed to get a grip on himself, because this was not the time to be having sexual fantasies about another employee, no matter how far back their relationship extended.  
  
He had to be professional.  So he distracted himself by pulling out his phone to look at the time.  The clock on the wall had been dead for a while.  In case Jo wasn’t aware, he was going to bring up acquiring new batteries with her once she arrived.

What was curious, was the fact that Jo walked into the room along with Ruby.

He tilted his head between the two women before he put the pieces together himself.

He was in trouble.  Even though Ruby had assured him she would keep his relationship with Dean on the ‘down-low,’ it appeared she had taken back her promise to him.  Cas was deeply disappointed in her.

“Jo,” he began cautiously, “I’m very sorry I didn’t alert you to my relationship status with Dean, it’s still new and I wasn’t sure if-”

“Save it.”

Before he knew what was happening, he was staring down the barrel of three guns.

Bobby Singer, who Dean had spoke highly of many times before, but he’d never had the pleasure of officially meeting, was behind one of those guns.

“Um,” he began, looking between them all, then admitted, “I’m very confused.”

“You’re pretty damn calm, considering we caught you,” Ruby spat at him and rounded one of the corners, as Jo did the same.  Bobby stayed in place blocking the doorway, with a look of determination on his face that spoke louder than words.

“Oh!”  Cas’ eyes lit up in understanding.  “Is this one of those conversations the family gives the new boyfriend that assures ‘if you hurt him, we’ll kill you?’  I didn’t know, until now - that is, that it was so literal.  Or else I would have been more prepared with a speech to tell you I’d never hurt Dean and-”

“Shaddup!”  The older man finally growled as Ruby and Jo both drew out bronze blades.  “You ain’t foolin’ any of us.”

“Get him!”

He was boxed in on both sides and his confusion was growing at an exponential rate, given the intensity of their voices and the fact that they did look like they really were going to injure him.    
  
Both Ruby and Jo lunged for him at the same time, which he dodged (on instincts alone) by ducking under the table.  They stumbled as their target disappeared, barely managing to get control of their footing and not stab one another with the blade they were wielding.

His concern was magnified, because now he had conflicting thoughts - was this was a rite of passage?  A challenge, to make sure he was good enough for Dean?  Was he supposed to use personal defense to disarm them?  
  
He didn’t wish to hurt them, but from the looks on both their faces, they genuinely wished harm upon _him_.  Maybe this wasn’t simply a matter of Dean, maybe he had been slacking on his responsibilities?  This was, after all, a type of punishment Heaven would use to correct him.  Maybe Heaven and Earth weren’t so dissimilar in their educational rehabilitation programs, after all.

He quickly crawled the length of the rectangular table and popped up on the other side in time to inquire, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in this situation.  What’s the protocol?  Do you wish me to fight back?”

Suddenly, there was a pressure in both his back and his gut.  He looked down to notice there were not one, but two blades jammed into his vessel’s flesh and he felt like he was caught.  They must know he’s an angel now, how terribly did he misjudge the situation?  
  
He stood up, taking stock of the depth of both the blades and wondered if he should pretend to be wounded.  That wouldn’t do - both of these would be fatal wounds.  He couldn’t exactly play dead, then show up to work the next day.  He had duties he couldn’t ignore, he had signed a contract which he intended to follow through with.

Both women fell back, looks of shock on their face, while Bobby exclaimed, “Balls!” then demanded, “Which of you idjits messed up on the lore?”

The woman were yelling at each other, screaming, and Cas wasn’t sure whether he should just pull out the daggers and hand them back to the women or…

“You said an incubus and a siren were the same thing!”  Jo screamed at Bobby, and quickly pulled out another knife and pointed it in his direction to gesture. “If anyone messed up, it’s _you_!”

“Rock salt hurts everything, right?“  Ruby drew her firearm and pulled the trigger.

Cas fell back a step from the impact, but this did nothing to help his boggled mind.  Until he put the words they were screaming, in the middle of firing rounds into his vessel, together like a puzzle.

“Wait!  Why would you think I’m an _incubus_?”  He sounded offended at the thought and squinted at the three.

While the others were flabbergasted by the fact he was still standing, they were still shouting and it was grating on Cas’ nerves, not to mention it was making him quite late for his night with Dean.  He tried to get their attention and match their volume, but it wasn’t working.  He didn’t want to, but he used a pulse of his grace to freeze them in place.  He didn’t appreciate the look of terror on their faces, either.  This was the last thing he wanted to do.  But they didn’t really leave him any choice.  They were a very _noisy_ bunch.

“I apologize for using my powers.  However, I feel the need to inform you I’m neither a siren nor incubus.  And for future reference, both an incubus and a succubus may be defeated with a silver blade dipped in the blood of an eagle.  I don’t know what gave you that idea but-”

“You hunted Dean here!  He wanted nothing to do with you, until that night we were at the bar and you used your venom to trap him!” Ruby spat the words angrily, “You tried with Meg, but knew it was too easy.  You assholes like a challenge, so you went for Dean because you knew he’d never be seduced without your poison!”

“You piece of shit, you’re turning him into a zombie!  He can’t take his eyes off you at work, you’re ruining him and-”

“I did no such thing!”  Castiel finally felt himself becoming irritated at the conversation, looking between the three.  “Dean is in his right mind, I can assure you, and I love Dean, I-”

“You were feeding off Dean in the break room!”  Ruby screamed, desperately struggling against the invisible confines of his grace, not letting them deter her aggression one bit.  “I fucking saw you!”

“I saw the way you lured ‘em into the back of that spa room-” Bobby joined in the shouting.  “When he came back out, he looked all doped up.  You gave ‘m that venom buzz an’-”

“This is not only extremely problematic, it’s a huge misunderstanding,” Cas grunted in annoyance as he casually pulled the blades from where they were lodged in his vessel, and washed a hand over the places where the rock salt had embedded themselves into his flesh.  He set both blades neatly on the table and announced, “I’ll talk to Dean and make sure it’s all right for me to unveil my true nature.”

And then, Castiel disappeared from the room.

With the invisible strings snapped, all three fell to the floor and looked wildly amongst each other.  There was a speechless terror echoing through the wrecked room - the table was overturned, rocksalt ricocheted and punched holes in the walls, even one of the chairs had broke in half.  It was an utter mess and another thing that left Jo seething - the monster had made a mess of her breakroom!  Then, Bobby finally spoke up:

“That sure as hell ain’t a siren.  What the hell kind of lore books are you idjits usin’ for research?  Goddamn _Google_?!  Yer lucky ‘m here to help you knuckleheads clean up this mess!  When did you get so stupid?!”

“We’ve got to call Dean, oh my God, I had no idea he was this powerful!”  Jo’s face had lost all its color and turned a horrified white.  “Someone, call him, now!”

Ruby grappled into her pocket to pull out her phone, but when she tapped at the touch screen she grunted, “It’s not working.  Fucker fried it!”

“How did I not see this?  How did I hire him?!”  Jo demanded and began pacing circles before making a B-line out the door.  “We have to get to Dean!”

“And do _what_?”  Bobby snapped, “We don’t know what we’re dealing with, we don’t-”

“We have to do something!”  Jo nearly sobbed, “I was the one who convinced him to come here!  I convinced him it was safe, and now _he’s_ under attack because I couldn’t see a fuckin’ supernatural creature walk right through the goddamn door!”

“This ain’t your fault, Joanna Beth.  Ruby‘s a hunter, and she didn‘t see it neither.”  The gruff man’s voice was final, turning a bit softer when he realized how hard Jo was being on herself.  “We get to the Roadhouse.  We get to that damn fool’s Impala and we’ve got ourselves an arsenal.  Somethin’ in there will do the trick, his dad’s journal’s in there, that‘s some better research than whatever bullshit you two were lookin‘ into.”

“Right, okay,” Jo started taking deep breaths so she wouldn’t hyperventilate.  “Roadhouse.  Impala.  You can research while I drive and-”

“ _I’ll_ drive,” Ruby cut in and reached out to cup Jo’s shoulder with her palm.  “You’re in no condition to.  I get it, this is personal because Dean’s practically family.  You don’t have a clear head right now, Jo.  You and Bobby research while we’re on the way to Dean’s and we’ll save him.  We _will_.”

“What are we waiting for?  Come on!”

\---------------

Cas appeared in the middle of Dean’s living room with every intention to get this matter settled-

\- if he hadn’t had a very enthusiastic, very naked Dean tackling him to the couch.

“What took you so long?”  He practically purred and took advantage of Cas’ slack jaw eagerly.

Dean licked into Cas’ mouth, exploring every inch and coaxing the angel into action.  He moaned into the assault and reached both his hands out to grab Dean’s ass cheeks, desperate for some kind of friction.  With their pelvis grinding together, Cas couldn’t seem to remember exactly what he was supposed to tell Dean…

Until he did.

He shifted his hands instantly from where they’d been happily groping his ass (and sneakily making their way to _another_ part of the hunter), to Dean’s chest to push him away.  The way Dean licked his lips and stared at him with unadulterated need made Cas hesitate.  Hell, it made the craving within Castiel escalate and -

“You’re right,” Dean said seductively, “As fucking gorgeous as you are in those clothes, we need them _off_.”

Dean’s hand shot down to palm Cas’ aching erection before unbuttoning and unzipping the pants in one smooth movement.  He grabbed both the boxers and jeans in tandem and yanked them down.  His brain must have been short-circuiting, because not even a second after his cock was free to feel the cool air, he was engulfed by the heat of Dean’s mouth.

Cas moaned loudly and tried to hold his hips back from thrusting into the amazing suction.  Each bob of Dean’s head took the dick deeper into his mouth, until the head bumped the back of the ex-hunter’s throat.  He hummed around the thickness and swallowed him down over and over again.  Dean’s hands dove under Cas’ shirt to explore the expanse of skin as he kept deep-throating him.

Being reduced to nothing but whimpers and pleas was not what Cas wanted right now.  Who the fuck was he kidding?  Of _course_ he wanted it, but he _needed_ to tell Dean, tell him that-

Dean pulled away to rip the vest from Cas’ form, the shirt soon joining the rest of his clothes on the floor.  The roll of their bodies, skin on skin, was too distracting all over again.  The way they moved together, the way their cocks were rutting together between their muscled bodies -

“Dean!”  Cas finally choked out, “We need to talk, I need to tell you-”

“It can wait,” he whispered, and just when he knew Cas was going to protest, he bit down on his neck.

Hard.

“You love it when we’re rough, don’t you?”  Dean licked at the reddening skin and sucked bruises the rest of the way down.  “I’ve been waiting all day for this-”

“You need to listen, I need-”

“What you _need_ ,” Dean growled as he reached down to the floor, “is to shut up and let me ride your cock.”

Before he knew what the man was doing, he caught sight of the red strip of fabric (Dean’s devil tail - he had to remind himself), which was wrapped around his head and tied as a gag.  His eyes widened, because this wasn’t something he could have anticipated.  Dean was a force of nature, and he grinned down with victory at his now quieter conquest.

“That’s what I thought,” he stated smugly.  “I got tired of waiting,” Dean mused casually and grabbed a bottle of lube, that was already on the table, to coat Cas’ cock.  “Knew I wanted to fuck you the second you popped in,” he raised on his haunches, positioning the head of Cas’ cock against his opening.  “Already fingered myself open for you, now there’s only one thing missing-”

He drew out the word as he sunk down, and what he’d planned teasing Cas with, transformed into a low moan while he took the angel in, inch by inch.  Once he was fully seated, he started grinding to feel that burn of Cas’ dick even deeper.  Dean took pleasure in the fact that Cas was reduced to needy whimpers and gasps.  He looked amazing like this - pinned to the couch, hanging on every roll of Dean’s pelvis.

The angel’s hands reached for the gag, but Dean swatted them away at the same time he lifted himself up.

“Don’t make me tie you up too,” he ordered as he slammed back down.  Although it was a little breathless, he added, “Unless you want me to.”

Since he couldn’t speak, Cas reached out and grabbed Dean’s hips as encouragement.  Encouragement to keep going, to fuck himself raw on the angel’s cock.

Dean did so, _eagerly_.

He was pent up, he’d been thinking about this constantly, all fucking day, and they could go for round two later.  Right now, he wanted it rough, he felt the need on such a primitive level that he didn’t care if the angel could breathe or not.  While Cas tended to fuck him slower, Dean used this to his advantage and fucked the angel with fervor.  He slammed down on him ruthlessly, taking pride in the way Cas was writhing and knowing just the right angle that’d light up those fireworks.

They were both panting, Dean unashamed of how loud he was as he wriggled and bounced up and down.  His angel looked wrecked - his angel was fucking beautiful.

This was all he wanted and more.

How had he made it so long without him - why did he even run away in the first place?  This was where he belonged-

Dean knew it wasn’t going to take much, he was already set to blow while he was fingering himself thinking of Cas.

Now that it was the angel’s huge cock splitting him open?  In a flash, he was _there_.

And he couldn’t give a fuck less.  They had all night to bring out the sweet-lovemaking the angel loved.

Now just wasn’t the time.

He rolled his hips as he coated Cas with cum, riding out the orgasm the best way he knew how - never letting his eyes leave Cas’.

The angel kept thrusting up, desperately seeking his own release and Dean’s clenching body gave that to him.  His shout was muffled by the gag, as he blindly reached out to grab Dean, because he missed their lips touching.  It was an obscene show the man had put on, but while he filled Dean up with his cum, it wasn’t intimate enough, he wanted to kiss him so fucking bad.

He reached up and yanked himself free of the gag and then grabbed Dean by the back of the neck.

The man eagerly fell forward and their lips crashed together, everything turning just a little more tender and warmed with affection.  

Cas couldn’t help whispering, “I love you,” against Dean’s swollen lips, and when the man pulled away with a huge smile he repeated back, “I love you, Cas.”

Everything was perfect, they were smiling at each other, waiting for their hearts to slow down from the rough, yet mind-blowing, sex…    
  
…Until there was a thunderous knock on the door.

Except, it wasn’t a knock.

Dean _knew_ that noise.

Someone was _kicking_ the motherfucking _door in_.  
  
Which was goddamn ridiculous, because he had left it unlocked!    
  
He was waiting for Cas’ arrival if the angel didn’t just zap in, and chose to use the door.    
  
Whoever was on the other side was not only rude, but stupid as shit, as they were ramming into the goddamn middle with some kind of blunt battering ram, without even trying the knob -

He looked alarmed as he pulled off Cas, feeling cum trickle down his leg, and tried to think where the fuck his clothes were, where the fuck he put his gun, where the-

“Oh,” Cas finally piped up.  “When I arrived here, I tried to explain to you - your friends believe I’m an incubus and attempted to kill me.”

“ _What_?!”  Dean’s words exploded from his mouth, “You didn’t think to fucking tell me that before now?!”

He could hear the wood splintering, the hinges ready to break with one more blow and he was still buck-fucking-naked.

“I tried, really, I did.  You were just very distracting.  Not to mention you gagged me.” Cas looked at him with sincere eyes, and Dean would have kissed him, despite the fact that his friends were a half a fucking second away from plowing down the door, guns blazing.

“Mojo clothes!   _Now_!”  Dean roared at him, and grabbed the angel by his (now manifested) shirt.

Dean was acting on instinct; he shoved Cas behind him because he wanted to protect him from this threat.  Even if the threat were his ‘friends.’  Not that Cas really needed protecting.  But, whatever.

His so-called ‘friends,’ once the door was broken down and they were storming the house, happened to be Jo, Bobby and… Ruby?

“Get away from him, boy!”  Bobby ordered as he raised some kind of iron sword inscribed with sigils.

“Jesus fuck, it smells like sex in here,” Ruby groaned, armed with a flame thrower, of all things.  “Damn incubus couldn’t wait for his next meal, huh?!”

“We’re here to save you, Dean!”  Jo shouted, holding none other than _The_ goddamn _Colt_.

“The fuck is going on?!”  Dean screamed back, pointing at what they were wielding, “What the hell are you idiots doing?  You gonna waste a bullet from the Colt, then slice up his meat in’a nice sirloin for a fucking _barbecue_?!”

The three looked between each other, which would have been sheepishly (all right, they didn‘t have much time to decide on weapons, so sue them!), if the situation wasn’t so dire.

“We don’t know what the fuck he really is!”  Ruby answered for them, “So we had to cover all our bases, don’t fuckin’ judge!  We’re saving your life!”

“I’m totally judging,” Dean heaved a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes.  “Guys, calm down, he’s not a siren or an incubus or whatever the hell you think he is.  He’s my fuckin’ ex,” he glanced back at Cas who had his arms crossed and shrugged, “ _current_ ,” he corrected, “boyfriend.  You don’t need to kill him!”

“You’re being lied to, Dean, I’m sorry, but he betrayed you, really - but we’re here to take care of him because you can’t see the truth!”  Jo tried desperately and, all of a sudden, all this care and worry did something weird to Dean’s brain.

Or maybe he was still hopped up on the afterglow, but he started laughing.

And couldn’t stop.

“He’s gon’ crazy,” Bobby ordered between the woman, “Monster’s got ‘m in too deep.”

“Hah!”  Dean threw back his head, not caring how hysterical he sounded, “You woulda saw just how deep, if you were fifteen seconds earlier.”

“I fail to see how this is amusing, Dean,” Cas reached out and grabbed his lover’s shoulder.  “I genuinely think they’re trying to kill me.  Can you please explain to them-”

“No more brainwashing!”  Jo snapped as she leveled the Colt.

It was at that moment Dean realized, yeah, this _was_ actually kind of serious.  Not much could make Cas blink, let alone hurt him.  The Colt?  That right there was something that _could_ end him.

“Okay, okay, guys, listen.  He’s not a monster.  He used to hunt with Sam and me he’s,” he risked a glance back to Castiel who nodded in confirmation.  “He’s an angel.”

“Aww, my heart be still,” Bobby drawled out, “That’s sweet ‘n all, but we stabbed this sonuva bitch with a bronze blade tipped with his own venom, pumped him fulla rocksalt and he didn’t even flinch.”

“Bobby, _no_ ,” Dean approached cautiously, with his hands held out in front of his body.  “Angel.  Like, Angel of the Lord, enemy to demons, Heaven’s wrath, the whole nine.  That’s why none of that shit worked.  You guys are smart - you do the math.  None of that shit hurt him, right?  I know it’s hard to believe but angels exist, believe me.  First time I met him, I stabbed him in the chest, ‘cause I didn’t believe and-”

“Hah, that’s what he told you?”  Ruby scoffed and looked between the two.  “That’ll be the day, when God gives a shit about any of us.”

“Get away from him, Dean,” Jo’s voice was eerily calm and her words induced the first flecks of fear in him.

“No, no, no,” Dean backtracked, “You’re not gonna hurt him, so help me, Jo!  You call Sam, he’ll tell you he’s-”

“Maybe he’s been brainwashed, too!  Something _this_ powerful?”

“I’m gonna prove it.”  Dean pursed his lips into a firm line when he backed up enough to grab something taped under the coffee table, for invasions like this.

A knife.

“Dean, we told you, we already tried to-”

There was a shortness of breath in the room when Dean turned the blade around and jammed it right in his own gut.  All the air left his lungs, and the pain made him dizzy, but it was something he _had to do_.

There were gasps, Jo cried out and dropped to her knees while Cas dove with super-human speeds to grab the man before he hit the floor.

Blood was everywhere, Dean didn’t just stab himself, he twisted the blade and red was gushing like a geyser.  It was coating his abdomen and thighs, and showed no signs of slowing - everything was about to sport a crimson stain but it was worth it.  But, _fuck_ , that hurt - that hurt a fucking ton-

They started to rush towards him, but Cas blasted them back with a pulse of grace that knocked them off their feet.  The angel wasn’t thinking, he was acting, all he cared about in this moment was the human, getting rid of the threats, even if they were Dean’s friends, and-

“Dean!”  He shouted in a mix of anger and confusion, “Why would you-?!”

“So-” his words were choked as blood bubbled up into his throat, internal bleeding harrowing his fumbled speech.  “So you could show ‘em all how you’ll heal me.”

Jo started bawling openly, the Colt dropped from her slackened grip the moment Dean turned the blade on himself - long forgotten on the floor.  Ruby was frozen in place, her mind boggled because this was the _last thing_ she had expected to witness.  Was he so far gone that the creature had decided to end him?  Now that his cover was blown, a loose end to tie up?  Was the unknown creature’s end game a human sacrifice?  Or was Dean really in his right mind?  She refused to be optimistic.

Yet, Bobby was watching the scene with equal parts fright _and_ curiosity.  If Dean was going to go to these lengths to prove this man’s innocence, to prove his power and unwavering loyalty?  This was something _more_.  For some reason, he didn’t feel the panic he should have, because he was beginning to see Dean’s conviction.  It sedated him in the same way as an out-of-body experience, as he waited.

“Dean Winchester,” Cas snarled out as he yanked out the blade and replaced it by covering the bleeding hole with his palm.  “You’re a fuckin’ assbutt.”

The wounded man just smiled and winked, as the power underneath Castiel’s hand began surging, began glowing and illuminated the room.  The white hot light crackled the electricity, and even though he shouldn’t have _had_ to, while Cas was knitting Dean’s stomach back together, one cell at a time, he flexed his wings.  The flickering lights allowed him to cast a shadow, creating the image of giant feathered wings that spanned the walls and the ceiling in a grand display that took the hunters breath away.

No one said a word when the light dimmed down.  Mouths were dry, eyes were unblinking, and heartbeats were pounding out of rhythm.   
  
Dean blinked up (grateful to be relieved of the unreal pain) and looked at Cas with happy eyes.  With a smirked, he teased, “Did you just show off, babe?”

“I wouldn’t _need_ to if-”

“Shut up.”  Dean grabbed him by the collar and hauled him down for a kiss.

He was slow to release him, letting their eyes linger for a second too long (in a situation like _this_ , anyway) and then, with a palpable amount of anger, challenged the group, “Any friggen questions now?!”

There was a shocked silence, as Cas gingerly helped Dean to his feet.  Although he was fully recovered, the drastic move had left Castiel shaken.  His human was such an idiot sometimes.  
  
Scratch that.  Most times.

Jo’s sobs were swallowed down, and her eyes were wide with the remnants of tears.  Her expression turned to a look of awe.  Ruby was still struck by disbelief, but tossed her flame thrower to the ground with a thud.  It seemed to be Bobby was the only one coherent enough to form words, as he tilted his head.

“Huh.  Angels.  Never thought I’d see the day…” and he approached the two without a lick of hesitation.

Dean still held himself protectively in front of Cas, although the angel was rolling his eyes at the display (which was just as dramatic as his, thank you very much), as Bobby swatted Dean to move him out of the way.

Bobby reached out his hand towards Castiel, who stared at it for a while.  Was this a trick?  Had he finally come to terms with the fact Cas was, indeed, not a monster?  
  
He finally accepted it when he felt the older man’s soul was filled with sincerity and truly pure intentions.    
  
“Sorry ‘bout that, Cas.  You have to know in the Hunter world, we’ve gotta hard time accepting anythin’ could be good, right?  Just isn’t somethin’ that’s in the cards.  You can understand that and why these idjits jumped to conclusions?”

Very solemnly, Cas nodded and agreed, “As Dean said, he stabbed me on our first meeting, as well.  I’m beginning to find this customary.  I hold no ill feelings, and only forgiveness.”

With a rueful smile and a hearty chuckle, Bobby nodded, “You’ve gotta strange one, here, Dean.”  
  
“He grows on you,” the man in question winked, and patted both Cas and Bobby on the back.  “I’m still working on his social skills, especially when it comes to not being a weirdo.”  
  
“I resent that,” Cas narrowed his eyes.  “Even I know that’s not a compliment.”

Jo finally snapped back to herself, pushed her weight off the floor and threw her arms (and her entire body) around Dean.

“Why the fuck didn’t you just tell me in the first place?  Why did you let me believe-?!”

“This is above my pay grade, I’m leaving,” Ruby grumbled and turned for the door.  “See you assholes at work, tomorrow.”

Bobby and Jo as a unit switched over as though they were in a choreographed dance, and now Castiel was much more fearful, looking into the short blonde’s brown eyes than the surly old man’s.  He wasn’t sure if it was because Joanna was his boss or…?

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, but then recoiled her arm and slapped him across the face.

He jerked back, not because it hurt, but because he wasn’t expecting it.  “I understand I should have said something, I wasn’t aware there were hunters, I-”

“That’s not what I slapped you for,” she crossed her arms and, in a flash, Jo was back to her sassy self.  “I slapped you, because when Dean came to mom and me he was heartbroken.  I never asked him about it, ‘cause I knew he wouldn’t spill, he’d deny it to his dying breath.  We knew it happened, though, all the signs were there.   _Someone_ did a number on him, and it was damn serious, because the Dean Winchester I know doesn’t fall in love.  Now, I know it was you who did the breaking, huh?”

Dean and Cas both looked taken aback, but Jo wasn’t finished.

“That slap was for hurting my family.”  She released her arms and clenched her fists before spitting out, “Next time you fill out a job application, try to include that information in the _goddamn paperwork_!”

She spun on her heels and Bobby followed her, after gripping Dean’s shoulder in a show of support.  While this may take Jo a little time to get over, Bobby had more than enough experience letting things go.  Life was too short, and whatnot.  
  
They side-stepped over the broken down door as they headed out.   
  
But it seemed Jo remembered one last thing to say.

“Castiel!  You’re comin’ in early tomorrow to Angel-Fix the fuckin’ break room if you wanna keep your job!”

“I, uh, yes.  Yes, I’ll be there!”  He called after her hoping she heard him, since her voice was now grumbling at Bobby in the distance.

Dean and Cas stood in the wreckage of the apartment and took stock of the events slowly.  The Colt, a flamethrower and a random iron samurai sword, or whatever, lay strewn across the rubble.    
  
Wait a minute.  
  
He _recognized_ each and every one of these things, the realization knocked him upside the head.  
  
These were -!

 _Goddammit_! Dean knew they must have gotten their slew of random-ass weapons from the _Impala_.

“Fuck!”  He shouted, and chased them out of the apartment, just in time to hear his Baby roar to life.

Jo flashed her middle finger out of the window, and then they were driving off.

Kicking the broken door, barefoot, was probably a bad idea.  But he was pissed off someone other than him was driving his car.  It hurt him that, after all this time, she was awoken by assholes with a vendetta against his boyfriend.  It didn’t _matter_ they were family, he drew the line at taking advantage of his Baby!   
  
After the entire hot fucking mess that had transpired and he wanted to break something.  He hissed, because he was sure he got a splinter from taking out his anger on the mess of jagged wood.  
  
However, when he looked up - it was to Cas’ smiling face.

And suddenly?  In that moment?  Everything was alright.

“What are you laughing at?”  He dared him.  “I just saved your life.”

“And I saved _yours_ ,” he reached out to take Dean’s hand.  “Unless, you’ve already forgotten dramatically carving out your internal organs.  You do realize a simple cut on the arm would have sufficed?”

“Hey!  It was part of the show!”  He tried to defend indignantly.  “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking clear.  Not like Jo wasn’t about to shoot you with the one thing that can kill _every_ goddamn _thing_.”

“I appreciate that you care.”  Cas tugged him close enough to press a kiss to his brow.  “I do hope this doesn’t happen again anytime soon.”

“You and me both.”  While Dean shuddered at the thought, he also thought of something else.  “So.  What about round two?”

“Are you _trying_ to kill me?”

“I already told you, the Colt’s the only thing that’ll hurt you,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “Although, I was hoping on getting my hands on a _certain_ Angel Blade-”

“Fine.  You’ve convinced me,” Cas was spurred into action and grazed his lips over Dean’s neck.  “This time in your bed, not the couch.  And I’d like you gag _you_.”

“Fuck yeah,” Dean could feel himself become more and more aroused by the second.

Until, a draft reminded him of something else.  Or rather, unfinished business.    
  
“So, can you, uh, fix the door, while you’re at it?  You should probably lock it, too.”

Cas chuckled and nodded his head.  “I always end up fixing your messes, don’t I?”

“Hey!  Not my fault I-”

Cas shut him up with a kiss, then pulled away to finish with, “I wouldn’t do it, if I didn’t enjoy it.”

“You sure know how to make a dude feel loved, don’t ya,” Dean grumbled and tried to pull away from the overload of attention, because he wasn’t ready for these kinds of warm and fuzzies quite yet.

“I do love you,” Cas hesitated a bit before he added, “But I will not smother you.  Just know that my feelings are true and unwavering.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t and thanks.  And I sure as hell won’t smother you, but if you want me to I could.  Or whatever.”

“That is the strangest-”

“Bed.  Now.”


	6. Epilogue: Badass Mothercutter

The only explanation Dean had when he went to work the next day, were the words ‘fake it ‘til you make it.’  
  
He couldn’t help but snoop into the break room the moment he arrived and realized that Jo had, more than likely, forgiven Cas.  
  
Or she sure as fuck _should_ have.  
  
Considering the fact that not only was the break room more immaculate than it had ever been, but there were suspicious new objects filling it.  
  
A brand-spanking-new state-of-the-art refrigerator.  A toaster oven, to go along with the microwave and was that?   _Yes_.  There was, _indeed_ , a margarita-making machine.    
  
What.  The.  Fuck.    
  
Jo finds out she’s employed an angel, and suddenly they’re getting a whole new makeover?  
  
Dean couldn’t help but smile as he imagined the scene.  
  
The blonde spitting out orders, and the angel silently and eagerly going along with them, trying to make up for all the confusion.  Yep.  His boss had most definitely taken advantage of his angel.  And speaking of _his_ , there was one thing he had to do today.  One thing he’d been meaning to do for a long time.  
  
He sidled up next to Cas, who was doing his daily reminder calls, and smiled at him.   
  
Once the angel put down the phone, Dean commented, “So, souped up back room, huh?”  
  
“Jo called it atonement for my crimes.  I don’t blame her,” he shrugged his shoulders and pointed at the books.  “Apparently, your atonement involves color services.  I apologize, but Joanna wouldn’t allow me to schedule you any haircuts.  She also figured out I’ve been, well, assisting you through those.  She’s quite an intelligent woman.  Which is why she gave me her blessing to continue, because she’s running for Salon of the Year and believes, with angelic assistance, she could win.”  
  
“Dammit!  If that blows my cover-!”  
  
“Don’t worry,” Cas reached out and squeezed his shoulder.  “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”   
  
“Dude.  It’s too early for being this sappy.”  
  
With the tilt of his head, as well as a small smirk, Cas casually said, “That’s not what you said when we were making love this morning.”  
  
Dean’s hand immediately darted out and slapped Cas’ mouth to cover it.  He leaned forward to hiss into the angel’s ear, “You don’t say those things out loud where people could hear.  Or at all.  Yeah, let’s go with you _never_ saying that, ever.”

  
  


  
  
“Are you hurting my unicorn?”  Meg’s voice interrupted Dean’s mini tirade, and her path was headed directly for Cas.  “How are you today, Clarence?”  
  
“I’m doing quite well, how about-”  
  
Castiel was not only spun around, but slammed into a wall with Dean’s hot mouth against his.  As alarmed as he was, there was no physical way for him to resist and kissed him back just as desperately.  The licks and eager lips left much too soon for Cas’ taste, and he was left slightly dumbfounded when Dean pulled away.  
  
“He’s.  Not.  Your.  Unicorn,” Dean pointed a very aggressive finger directly at Meg.  “He’s _mine_.  So no more of this slutty flirting and trying to get into his pants, we clear on that?”  
  
The woman jerked back, and for the first time in her life, didn’t know what to say.  
  
Cas mumbled under his breath, “You’re a caveman,” at the same time Charlie excitedly shouted from across the salon, “About damn time!”   
  
Which made both men blush, because although the salon wasn’t open quite yet, all his co-workers were milling around.  He only wanted to get Meg off their back, but now everyone was catcalling and whistling and he regretted it immediately.  Well, maybe not.  
  
It was gratifying to see Meg huff off towards her station without a response at all.  
  
Cas was glaring at him, halfheartedly, when he asked in a patronizing tone, “Do you feel better, now that you’ve publicly claimed me?”  
  
“Yep.” Dean popped the ‘p,’ then added, “You’re adorable when you’re pissed.”  
  
“No PDA!”  Jo lamented as she charged towards them.  “You assholes are lucky you still work here.  There will be no quickies in the breakroom, making out in the spa _or_ making goo-goo eyes across the floor!  Do I make myself clear?!”  
  
While Dean’s gulp was more audible than Cas’, they both nodded their heads profusely.  Jo seemed happy enough with their reactions, and walked away with one more threat of, “Get back to those calls, Castiel.  I’m not paying you to make out with your boyfriend!”  
  
Dean started laughing and he had a hard time stopping.  Until Ruby walked into the salon and glared at them both.  It seemed that someone other than Jo was having difficulty with the new knowledge.  Although, Dean had a feeling it had something to do with the fact Ruby didn’t like to be proven wrong.  He could understand that, he had that selfish kind of pride once in a while, too.  But this was excellent teasing material for a good, long time.  
  
Taking heed of Jo’s advice, Cas swatted Dean out of his personal bubble and went back to the phones.  
  
Huh.  That was a first.  Cas willingly allowing Dean personal space.  
  
Once again, he thought it was adorable.  
  
Something in the salon changed that day, and it was for the better.  He didn’t have to hide his relationship from Cas, both Lisa and Meg had taken the hints and Charlie was finally off their backs.  Not to mention, each and every single client who walked out of the salon that day might as well have been wearing a fuckin’ halo, since Jo had ordered Cas to give them all an ‘angelic finishing touch.’  
  
She was serious as shit about winning this “Salon Top 100” award, it seemed, and she had no problem with the means to reach the end.  Which Dean found hilarious.  He was very content, for the first time in a long time, and felt like he was untouchable.  
  
Until, that is, someone literally _touched him_ and he felt the tips of nails biting into his flesh.  
  
He spun around to see bright red lips and equally bright hair staring him down like a predator.  
  
“So, I’m cashing in on that little favor, Deano,” Abaddon cooed and with the come-hither flick of a finely manicured finger - he knew he had to bite the bullet and follow her.  
  
Dean would be happy to get out of Abby’s debt.  Because she basically terrified him.    
  
This couldn’t mean anything good.  
  
\---------------  
  
Abby didn’t stop walking until they were in the back supply room.  Which he didn’t really understand, because the spa was empty.  It wasn’t like there would have been any prying eyes or eavesdropping ears if they chatted by her makeup station, but apparently she was taking every precaution in the world to maintain privacy.  
  
Once they reached their destination, Dean was fidgeting by the scrutiny of her gaze.  She was smirking, though, and that was a bad sign.  
  
“So…” he drew out, waiting for her to say something.  
  
“Joanna said I can up my prices if I take a continuing education class,” she put her hands on her hips.  “I deserve it.  I’ve been at it much longer than Ruby has, and it’s time I get paid sufficiently for my abilities.”  
  
“Alright, that seems fair.  Why are we being all secretive?” Dean asked, because he was genuinely confused.  
  
“I need a model to perform on for my class in order to get the certificate.  So I need you to drop anything you’re doing tonight, because you’re coming with me.”  
  
There was something she wasn’t telling him, because the smug expression was growing by the second.  
  
“Uh, for what?  Like, to wax on?  You’ve got a shop fulla chicks who’d jump at the opportunity to get waxed for free.” His face must have been showing all the confusion he felt, because her grin widened.  
  
She reached out to pat Dean on the side of the face and explain, “No, it can only be you, sweetheart,” then she dramatically leaned a bit closer to reveal, “I need a model for a male Brazilian.  Manscaping, at its best.”  
  
“What?!”  Dean shrieked, followed by an instant, “ _Hell_ fucking _no_!  You ain’t getting anywhere near my junk, sister!”  
  
“But you owe me.”  The smile on her face told him she was already victorious.  Especially when Abby finished with, “Jo’s rescheduling your clients for the afternoon as we speak, because she’s ordered you to.  There’s no way you can escape this, Deano.  Payback can sometimes be a bitch, even in the world of favors.  Plus, it’s the boss’s order.”  
  
He felt the bottom fall out of his stomach, because this was proof Jo hadn’t forgiven him yet.  The fact that she would go this far, proved her malicious intent and her cold blackened heart.  
  
“Dean?!  What’s wrong?”  Cas demanded as he swung around the corner into the back room.  
  
“And here I thought your girlish screams wouldn’t be heard from back here,” she laughed.  “Oh well.  We have a date.  Three o’clock, darling.  I’ll see you then.”  
  
She winked and brushed past him, grinning impishly at both men on the way out.  
  
“What’s wrong?  Are you all right?  Did she-”  
  
Cas was all up in his space, going as far as to look for a physical wound that would have explained Dean’s meltdown.  But he couldn’t form words… he couldn’t-  
  
He was fucked.  
  
“ _Dean_ , answer me!”  Both of Cas’ hands were gripping his face, intense worry in his eyes.  “You-”  
  
“Everything’s okay, Cas,” Dean tried to state evenly, but his jaw kept clenching and unclenching.  
  
“But your shouts-”  
  
“I promise.  Everything is fine.”  He reached up and grabbed Cas’ wrists to pull his away from his face.  “Just entered into a deal with the Devil, and my time’s come around to pay for it.”  
  
“I don’t understand.”  He let his hands be pulled away, but immediately linked their fingers together.  “There is demon warding all around the shop, you’ll be safe here.”  
  
“Not that kind of devil.  Something even worse.”  
  
“You’re not making any sense.”  
  
Dean kissed him quickly before he tried to explain one last time, “It’s my own fault.  I’ll, uh, be home late tonight.”  
  
He wasn’t sure when his apartment became ‘their’ apartment, but that was a thought he could take solace in.  Maybe a happy place he could pretend to go to when Abby was ripping the hair from his nuts.  His pride wouldn’t let him explain to Cas what was about to happen, because, well.  That’s what pride was.  It was his cross to bear.  Or, literally, bare.  He made his bed.  All of those things applied, and the only thing that could help him get through this was knowing his angel would be at home, waiting for him.  
  
“All right,” Cas said slowly.  “You’re not doing planning on doing anything reckless, are you?  I don’t know how to gauge this scenario.”  
  
“Ain’t nothin’ to worry about.”  So what if he kissed Cas again, it made him feel a little better.  “Just have booze ready for me when I’m back.”  
  
“Anything you need.”  
  
“Whiskey.  Lots and lots of whiskey.”  
  
\----------------  
  
The way Dean wandered into his apartment could only be described as a walk of shame.  
  
His virtue was ruined.  He was used, abused, and kicked (hairlessly) to the curb.  
  
Abbadon pulled no punches, and received her certificate with praise.  
  
Dean, on the other hand, died inside.  
  
Why anyone would go through that willingly, he hadn’t the slightest idea.  It was _torture_.  Worse than anything he’d experienced in Hell (alright, maybe that was a little over dramatic, but it was really fucking close, dammit!) and people actually paid cash-money to go through that.  
  
He made a promise to himself, on the silent car ride home, he’d never ask a favor of anyone again.  Not like much could top this, though.  With the reminder of aloe to help any swelling or redness, Abby cackled and sent him on his way.  
  
Now, he was locking the door behind him and caught sight of a fifth of Jack and a glass waiting for him on the coffee table in the living room, and he thanked God for sending him this angel.  He didn’t bother to pour it into the glass, he ripped passed the seal and chugged straight from the bottle.  
  
Castiel looked alarmed as he turned the corner from the kitchen with pizza in his arms, “Dean?”  
  
“Not talking about it,” he pointed with stone-serious eyes.  “But I would _love_ to talk about that pizza.”  
  
He took one more chug from the bottle before he set it down, and desperately reached for his salvation.  An angel with a pizza box.  
  
Cas took his warning to heart, even though he was still looking like an adorable confused puppy, and set the box down.  Dean knew right away what Cas had done.  He’d felt Dean getting close to the apartment, zapped over to grab this Meat Lover’s Supreme and had it ready when he came stumbling in.  The cheesy was hot and gooey, and everything he need right now.  He moaned around the pizza, while he used his other hand to pour the liquid into the cup.  
  
How was _that_ for multitasking?  
  
“Dean,” Cas watched him with his eyes all squinty, “You’re sitting strangely.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
\----------------------  
  
After drinking himself into a pleasant numbness (so maybe the aloe helped with that, too) any semblance of happiness was ruined by a text he really should have been expecting.  Dean couldn’t bring himself to pick up his phone, but Cas did it for him.  
  
“Our theme for tomorrow has been released,” the angel spoke with a grave tone.  “I do not believe you’re going to enjoy it.”  
  
“Ahh, give me the fucking phone,” he squirmed and reached out, nearly tumbling off the couch as he did so.  
  
When his eyes flew over the message, he could feel himself pale.  
  
So, he very calmly exchanged the phone for the liquor on the table, and helped himself to a hearty chug.  The world was out to get him.  He knew that now, and there was no escaping it.  
  
“Dean?”  Cas asked very carefully.  “Could you explain to me what-”  
  
“Let’s call in sick tomorrow.”  
  
It was a brilliant idea, now that he thought of it.  And his drunk brain was set on it.  
  
“We’re still on probation with Joanna.”  Cas just _had_ to remind him.  
  
Nope.  Nope, he would do his best to convince the angel that his plan was the only plan.  
  
He ungracefully climbed the length of the couch and straddled Cas’ lap.  Dean leaned in to ghost his lips across the long expanse of neck Cas was eagerly giving him and asked, “We could spend all of tomorrow in bed,” he emphasized his point with a roll of his hips.  “Consider it a honeymoon, now that we’re back together, yeah?”  
  
With a swift move of his head, Cas captured Dean’s lips and kissed him tenderly, “As much as I would love to-”  
  
“Then let’s do it.”  
  
Dean gripped the nape of Cas’ neck and dove into the kiss with vigor.  He’d never get tired of it, their tongues teasing each other and the nips that left them both breathless.  He hated that he’d let him go in the first place, he should have known it was the worst mistake ever, since they moved together so flawlessly.  They completed each other.  Although he wasn’t going to say these things out loud, he tried to pour those emotions into each and every single kiss.    
  
They broke apart just enough for the angel to yank both their shirts off so they were skin to skin.  Cas’ hands were quick to latch onto Dean’s hips, when the straddling quickly escalated into rutting.  The angel moaned into his mouth at the same time Dean’s mouth clamped down on his neck and sucked.  
  
Cas belonged to him.  The display at the shop that day didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the possessiveness he felt, because love did that to him. Who knew?  His angel was gorgeous - the way he watched Dean with lust-filled eyes and the flex of his muscled abs when he tried to thrust up and sync up their hips.  He was the only one allowed to see Cas like this - stunning and falling apart with need.  
  
“Want you, babe,” Dean moaned against his neck, then he sucked the angel’s earlobe into his mouth.  
  
“You’re quite horny when you’re drunk,” he tried to deliver it with a teasing quality, but his wrecked voice did him no favors.  
  
He was just as onboard.  
  
“Bedroom, now.”  
  
Of fucking course, the angel easily stood up, carrying Dean with his legs wrapped around his middle across the apartment.  Whatever, Dean was just happy he didn’t have to move.  He was quickly shoved down to the mattress with Cas crawling on top of him and pinning his wrists down.  
  
Hell yeah, he was in one of _those_ kinds of moods.  
  
Maybe possessiveness was contagious, because Cas was kissing along Dean’s body hungrily, marking him up with his mouth - alternating between love bites and hickeys.  And he loved every goddamn minute of it.   
  
Although Dean couldn’t move his hands, he sure as fuck could arch his hips up, desperate for friction.  His cock was throbbing, needing touch, needing Cas’ mouth, anything -  
  
The angel wasn’t giving in to him that easily, though.  
  
The look he shot Dean was borderline pornographic as he licked a stripe lower and lower on his stomach.  Then, oh God, he used his fucking _teeth_ to unbutton and unzip the jeans.  Cas’ hands ghosted down Dean’s forearms, to his shoulders then down his chest.  When the fingertips grazed over his nipples, he reached out to grab him and drag him lower.  
  
Only - he was still held firmly in place.  
  
Goddamn _angel_ was pinning him with _grace_ , and there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do about it.  
  
Apparently, he was a masochist, because the mere thought shot straight to his dick.  He couldn’t help but whine when Cas’ talented hands teased his nipples to hardness in no time.  The light touches turned rougher when he raked his nails over Dean’s ribs and grabbed the edge of his jeans, to haul them off.  He was done playing around.  
  
And Dean couldn’t be happier.  Or more aroused, for that matter.  
  
“Fuck, Cas, want you inside me, please,” he mewled as he lifted his hips to help wriggle out of both his pants and boxers.  “Need your cock now-”  
  
Only, Cas had stopped his assault.  
  
Dean was waiting on bated breath, waiting for a hot mouth around his cock, waiting for Cas to spread his legs wide and lap at his hole but… there was nothing.  
  
When his eyes finally dropped down, Cas was just staring at his junk.  
  
“What the fuck, dude-”  
  
“Why are you missing not only your body hair, but your pubic hair as well?”  He glanced up with a confused expression.  
  
Dean grunted out in sheer frustration, and swiftly _kicked_ Cas _off_ the bed.  The grace pinning him down was gone and he was angrily looking around for his boxers.  He found them on the floor, right next to the angel he’d shoved off him, who was currently ungracefully flailing on the carpet.  
  
“Way to kill the fuckin’ mood, Cas!”  Dean snapped and pulled up his underwear.  
  
“I was asking a simple question.”  He had those huge, adorable eyes out and was pouting, and Dean couldn’t help but feel a little bad about it…  
  
But not bad enough to keep himself from growling a slightly alcohol-slurred, “Honeymoon’s over.  Guess we’re going to work tomorrow, after all.  I’m expecting you to mojo away any hangover, thanks.”  
  
“I didn’t mean to-” Cas jumped back up to the bed and crawled his way after Dean.  
  
“Whatever, man.” He did _not_ need reminding of his misadventure that very afternoon.  So, he was choosing to exchange sex for ignorance.  For the first time, like, ever.  It was _that_ traumatizing.  
  
He pouted.   _Castiel_ straight up pouted as he watched Dean crawl under the covers and roll away from him.  
  
After a few moments of silence, the angel cleared his throat.  “Then perhaps you can explain to me what a ‘Drag Queen’ is for theme day?”  
  
“You know what, forget about mojo’ing my hangover.  Just kill me.  Let me go gently in my sleep.  I’m so _done_ with this job!”  
  
\----------------  
  
It wasn’t until a week later that the two men were finally off Jo’s ‘probation.’  Ruby had finished pretending like they didn’t exist, and Meg was finally acting like a grown up and not like a whore around Cas.  In addition, the angel had stopped asking questions about his naked crotch, and sex was back and better than ever.  
  
Things were looking up.  
  
Dean and Cas were lazing around on the couch after a shift, watching TV when a phone call began vibrating the coffee table in front of them.  The angel raised an eyebrow, while Dean leaned forward and noticed it was his brother.

“’Ello, bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam laughed, and went right to the point.  “Dude, they thought Cas was an _incubus_?  That must have been a hell of a scene!”

“You have no idea.  You’re a little late on the draw though, buddy,” he chuckled and tossed his head back.  “Got the adrenaline pumpin’, that’s for sure.  Felt like I was on a goddamn hunt for the first time in forever.  Kind of missed that feeling, not gonna lie.”

“Well, that’s good, actually.  There’s a reason I didn’t have time to gossip until now.  I’ve been busy.”

“Wait, and why is that good?”  His question was wary, “Do I need to put you on speaker?”

“You with Cas now?”  When Dean answered with an affirmative hum, Sam responded immediately, “Yeah, that’d be for the best.”

Dean clicked the button and set the phone down on the table.  Cas sent him a questioning glance, but then copied Dean’s body language and leaned towards the phone.

“Hey, Cas!  Glad you’re still in one piece.”  The younger Winchester nearly cackled.  “How does it feel to be one of the family now?”

“Hello, Sam.  I highly doubt they see me as part of the family.”

“You made it out alive.  You’re in, trust me.  So, Dean said he kinda liked the idea of hunting again, what about you?”

“That all depends.  I’m always ready for battle, my focus has just been… Well, Dean’s extremely distracting, to say the least,“ Cas glared at the man in question who was wiggling his eyebrows, then finished answering the question with, “To what are you referring?”

“Something kind of suspicious is going on.  Ever since Crowley went back to ruling Hell, we haven’t had to worry about demons or anything.  But I got a read on a kid named Kevin Tran who fell off the grid, and there were, uh, strange circumstances surrounding his disappearance.”

“That would make sense,” Cas stated with a grave nod.  “He is, after all, a Prophet of the Lord.”

“Excuse me?!”  Sam and Dean snapped at the same time.

“That is disconcerting.  We can’t ignore this,” the angel went on.  “If some kind of monster, or worse, demon, got a hold of a prophet that cannot mean anything good.  Not only is he a chess piece who they could use against the angels, he’s also full of information which could be very damaging to the Earth.”

“Well, shit.  It was fun while it lasted,” Dean huffed and reached out to sling an arm around Castiel.  “Ready to save the world again, Cas?”

“If you’re ready to switch out your blades again.”  There was a certain degree of humor in his voice.

It was returned with a warning.  “As long as you stay with me this time.”

“I have learned my lesson.  After what I’ve been through to win you back?  Getting my head shaved, abusing my grace for the sake of your atrocious color clients, being seduced by a woman who condones animal cruelty, and being accused and nearly killed because your family believed me to be an incubus?  I’m almost positive any threat we confront will pale in comparison.  And I‘ll be with you every step of the way.”  He reached out and pulled the reformed slash renewed hunter into a kiss.

“Dudes… I’m still on speaker… do this in your own time will you?  Let's meet up at Bobby’s.  Three days.”

“See you then, Sammy!”

There was a moment of silence, where they simply stared at each other, both wearing equally dopey grins.

That was, until Castiel broke the silence.  “You’re still in possession of The Colt, correct?”

“Yeah,” Dean frowned and prompted further, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I just wanted to make sure,” he folded his hands and nodded to himself.  “I have a feeling Joanna will be rather upset we failed to give her our ‘two-week notice.’”

Dean did something he’d been doing a lot of lately.  He threw his head back and laughed while he reached out and caught Cas in a headlock.  “Yeah, can’t lie, kinda terrified about what’s going to happen with that.  And all the other bullshit she’s pulled to get us back, since we got over that shit-show.”

“We can tell her we’re on sabbatical?”

“Or call in dead.  She can’t get mad at that.”

“She’ll have to understand.  After all, she‘s a hunter, as well.”

“Hopefully that’s something my clients will buy.”  Dean mused as he thought about it.  “Wonder what they’ll tell ‘em?”  He then started chuckling and did a pretty damn good impression of Becky’s professional voice apologizing, “I’m sorry, Dean’s left the salon and isn’t taking appointments because he’s got a prophet to find and some demons to gank?’”

“That should work out quite nicely.”  Cas confirmed with a smile.  “We are saving the world, after all.”

“Yep.  Let’s go for another round of savin’ the world.”


End file.
